


A World of Fragile Things

by Stylinsonvodka



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Asshole Liam, Bottom Zayn, M/M, Mpreg, Pregnant Zayn, Punk Liam, Smut, cause i cant help it anymore, side larry and nosh also
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-21 07:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stylinsonvodka/pseuds/Stylinsonvodka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Baby," Harry repeats, English broken. He waves a hand, as if trying to push the words from the tip of his tongue to the tips of his fingers. </p><p>Zayn doesn't get it.</p><p>"Baby," Harry repeats, when he blinks. </p><p>"What baby?" Zayn asks skeptically, as he tries to help guide the words past Harry's lips. "Whose baby?"</p><p>Harry holds his hands out again. "Your baby."</p><p>Or, the one where Liam was only supposed to give Zayn an English lesson. Not a kid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally a prompt fill for my friend eleanor that i posted on tumblr and that was terrible!!!! so i revamped it and changed everything and here it is again!!!!!!! hopefully less terrible!!!

The sound of the clock. 

His own breathing. 

The sound of his shoe hitting the lineoleum as he anxiously bounces his knee. 

He can hear the voices outside of the office, of teachers and the anxious students they scold, and he can hear the scrape of metal chairs against polished floors as people in the surrounding classrooms push back from the desks. Even the smallest of sounds, the clink of the change in the anxious student's back pocket, are loud in the opposing silence, even louder to Zayn's ears. He chews on his thumbnail, and between the ringing, and the rattling of change, he can hear the sound as it catches between his teeth. It's so loud it's almost painful. 

He wants to sit straighter in his chair, and sit still, quieting the sound of his converse as they squeak against the tile. He attempts it, but then the teacher outside speaks again, scolding and shouting and crippling Zayn's resolve. He tries, really tries to calm himself down, but it's next to impossible. Everything's just too _loud_.

He tries again to tell himself he's just being dramatic. Zayn hasn't done anything, he knows he hasn't done anything, and he has nothing to worry about. But he's far too anxious for that to be of any comfort. If anything, it makes it worse. He can almost feel the words wrap around his heart, cutting and freezing and constricting, pulling it up until it rests in his throat. He's a good student. Really. He works hard, he's nice to his teachers, he's avoids people and trouble and conflict as much as he can. And yet.

He's sitting in the principle's office, watching the clock count down the seconds, listening to people pack their bags in the classroom across the hall and the scolded student as he trudges off down the hallway towards the end of the day. He can't think of what he'd done, but he must of done something, and he swears he might burst into tears before he can even find out what it is. 

Five, ticks by, and he hisses. It roars through the office. Four. Three. Two. One. 

As he clock strikes three, the familiar bell growlss from the room just behind this one - louder, more obnixious, like it's trying it's best to shake Zayn from his skin. It's followed by excited shouts, and the pounding of feet against the hall outside. Zayn can't keep himself from cringing, and all but holds his breath, until the door swings open behind him and his breath catches beneath the growing lump in his throat. 

"Zayn." 

The door closes, the footsteps outside are muffled, and the ones from inside in the small office are suddenly way too loud.

"Y-yeah?" 

He glances up slowly at the sound of his name, and bites his lip, watching as the disapproving faces of his principle and his English teacher step into view. They look none too pleased. (Zayn swears his heart stops.)

The principle stifles a sigh, and sits down slowly, trying to catch Zayn's eye across the expansive desk. Coincidentally, at the same moment Zayn's fingernails become fascinating. The principle's answering sigh is quite blunt. "Do you know why you're here, Zayn?" The question sounds suspiciously like something one would ask an inmate, and it disheartens Zayn considerably, until he knows words are impossible without breaking and all he can do is shake his head.

"It's about your grade on your latest English assigment." It's his teacher that speaks next, and Zayn glances up, accepting the sheet of paper as the young man holds it out to him. "It's far from your best, Zayn."

Zayn glances down, at the _F_ drawn through his name, and he's almost tempted to sigh in relief. "I...uh...I'm sorry?"

"What's going on?" His teacher sighs slightly, and Zayn looks back up. "You're such a bright young man. But your English grade is slipping more and more." 

"Uh..." Zayn wets his lips, trying to ignore the feeling in his chest as his heart threatens to sink again. That's one question Zayn has an answer to, but it's not one he thinks he can say out loud. English is the one and only class he shares with Liam Payne (and he's not even making up his last name, he swears), self titled bully, bastard, and badass. He really only seems to be happy when Zayn isn't, and it can distract him, the smallest bit, sometimes. Other times, and he can barely even admit this to himself, but it's because he's too trained on Liam - the width of his shoulders, the sharp curve of his jawline, the way the fabric of his shirts are always stretched taut against his thick arms - to pay much attention to the notes, or the teacher, or the subject at hand. A silent moment passes before he realizes he just did it again. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault." It is, Zayn thinks, but he still tries to smile as the teacher continues. "I don't know what's going on in your personal life, and it's none of my business. But we-" he motions to the principle- "don't want to see you fail. You're smart, Zayn, and you work so hard. So we have hired you a tutor."

Zayn blinks, before a somewhat more geunine smile starts to curl across his lips. "So I'm not in trouble?" He clarifies. 

"You're not in trouble." The teacher laughs at Zayn's expression, and shakes his head. "We just want to help you pass. You, of all people, deserve it."

Zayn nods slowly. "Thank you." 

"Thank you." It's the principle that speaks next. "You probably work harder than anybody in the school. And we appreciate it greatly."

"Thank you," he repeats. 

"You're first session with your tutor is schedualed for tomorrow," the young teacher continues, and he apparently catches the small sigh Zayn emits because he laughs. "He's waiting just outside the office for you. You're expected to exchange phone numbers, and addresses for your study sessions, but what you really do is none of our business." 

"Thank you," comes Zayn's response, because, y'know. Idiot. 

The English teacher laughs again. "You're very welcome." 

Zayn only nods, and the principle laughs too, waving him off. "That's all we needed. You're dismissed. Try to make sure we didn't do this for nothing, yeah?"

"Of course not," Zayn says, and he's kind of relieved he manages something other than another sigh or a bout of gratitude. He stands slowly, to the chorus of laughter, and manages another small smile before retreating the room with quickened footsteps.  
He lets the door swing shut behind him, and quickly scans the front office, trying to convince himself that he kind of is a fuckwit, and a tutor could be good for him. He can almost convince himself of the fact, until only other figure left in the office steps forward, and Zayn's heart drops. Liam smirks. 

.

Zayn makes a sound that very much sounds like he's choking. (He thinks he might be. On his own saliva and Liam's smirk.) 

Words fail him, as does breath, and all he can do is stare at Liam and hope his expression has schooled itself into something of a glare. He doesn't know if he's bothered, or just startled, but he almost can't grasp Liam actually being there. There's no way he's smart, or a certified tutor, and Zayn, had he not been stunned silent, probably would have laughed at the fact that this is definitely Liam's first time in the office of his own free will. 

Liam rolls his eyes. "Alright, there?" 

Of course, Zayn tries to say, but his voice still doesn't work, as though his words have caught between his teeth alongside his lower lip. He wants to tell Liam that he's fine, of course he's fine, why wouldn't he be?, but Liam has neck tattoos, and he can't quite seem to manage that. What comes out instead, is, "Fuck."

Liam smirks, tilts his head, wets his lips. (He has a tongue piercing. Zayn wants to cry.) "What was that?" 

"Uh," Zayn says intelligently, and shakes his head. "Nothing." 

"Sure." Liam nods, albeit sarcastically, but before Zayn can defend himself, Liam's taken his hand, and his words die in the back of his throat. He pulls a Sharpie from his back pocket, as Zayn watches helplessly, and scrawls a series of numbers across the back of his hand. It takes Zayn too long to realize it's his phone number. "Call me, yeah?" Liam says, and Zayn blinks. "Or just text me your address, and I'll swing by yours." 

"When?" Zayn manages to ask, and Liam lifts one shoulder. 

"Are you free tomorrow?" 

"Probably," he replies without thinking. 

Liam smirks again. (Zayn wants to lick the expression off his face.) "Great."


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is late???? im already working on the next chapter so hopefully it wont take as long to get it up??? sorry omg

Zayn promises himself he won't call Liam the next day. 

But Zayn is weak. 

The moment he wakes up, he remembers, and the lead weight of the realization weighs down his mind until it's almost as heavy as his hand. He tries to pretend he wasn't awoken by the thought of calling Liam, and he tries to roll over and force himself back to sleep. He can't. (He's weak.)

It's a Saturday, and Zayn crawls out of bed, at an hour he suspects even monks would cringe at. He walks into the kitchen, places his phone down on the counter, and he finds himself staring at it until the kitchen's coloured with sunlight and his parents are leaving for work. He watches, waits, stares; mumbles goodbyes to his mum and dad, tries in vain to convince himself he doesn't need to call. That he doesn't want to call. But he does. (He knows he does. He's weak.)

When he finally sits up, to the chorus of birds and cars and chaos, the sun's long since risen, life long since breathed into the world around him. He can hear the children in the flat across the hall coo, and cry, as they wait for their mother to lock the door, and drive them to the park, and he can hear the distant sounds of giggles from the daycare directly across the street from the kitchen window. Car horns resound in the near distance, life thrums throughout the surrounding city, and fuck, how long has Zayn been zoned out? 

And then, "Ah, look who's finally up," sounds from somewhere behind him, and he nearly falls from his chair. 

Trying not to gasp aloud, he turns in his seat, to face the intruders so predictably rifling through his refrigerator. "We were wondering when you were gonna get your ass up," Louis continues, apparently ignoring Zayn as the latter tries to bring himself back from the edge of a heart attack. "You passed out at the table." 

"How the fuck do you two keep getting in here?" Zayn asks, hand held to his chest, breathing slightly laboured. He really wishes this was the first time he's woken up, or sat up, or looked up, to find Louis and Eleanor draped across his furniture, or stealing all his food, but it really wasn't, and he wasn't sure how much more of it his poor heart could take. It's undergone so much abuse. "Are you fucking locksmiths now?" 

"Yes," Eleanor says, at the same time Louis drops a key on the table before Zayn and says, "We borrowed a key from your mum."  
"Why did my mum give you a key to our house?" Zayn asks with a snort. 

Louis lifts one shoulder. (Eleanor swats at the other.) "We told her you were acting pretty weird at school yesterday, and we wanted to check up on you. Why are you asleep on the kitchen table, anyway?" 

"Uh," Zayn says, and shrugs. "I was thinking." 

"So hard you drained all your energy and passed out?" Eleanor asks, brow quirked in amusement as she sits down at the table across from Zayn. "Boy troubles?" 

He wants to snort again, but his body betrays him, and the breath leaves his lips in the form of a sort of distracted sigh. Which is, fuck. "Something like that." 

"Zayn, you ass," Louis pipes up, attempting to give Zayn another heart attack as he slams the door of the fridge closed with a flourish. "Do you have a secret boyfriend that I don't know about?"

"Yes," Zayn says instantly, and Louis' answering gasp is betrayed and crippled and completely overdramatic. Zayn doesn't know why he expected different. 

"Are you serious? What's his name? Is he -" 

"Louis," he cuts in. Louis stops. "If I had a boyfriend, do you honestly think you two wouldn't know about him?" 

"Because you love us so and can't hide anything?" Eleanor asks. 

"Because you two break into my house so often that it would be physically impossible to hide _anything_ ." 

"I'll take it," she says with a nod.

Zayn rolls his eyes. "What do you want, anyway? I'm kinda busy today." (Busy, by definition; the act of sitting, moping, and/or waiting for the opportunity to call one's supposedly intelligent, apparently emo classmate whom one may/may not think about fucking on occasion.)

"With what?" Louis asks, as Eleanor sighs, "Boy troubles?" 

It was weird how they did that. 

"Sure, boy troubles," Zayn agrees, and the answering roll of his eyes is cut short as Louis sympathetically pats his head and drops down in his lap. Zayn grunts. 

"Who's the boy?" he asks, king of ignoring Zayn's pain and mental health for the sake of boys or gossip. "What're the troubles?" 

"The fact that he likes a boy is probably troublesome," Eleanor says, rapping her nails against the surface of the table. "Zayn doesn't like people."

"Oh God, you're right," Louis realizes. "Zayn is feeling human emotions." 

"Shut up, Louis," Zayn says. 

"I'm just excited for you!" He insists. "You're almost a normal person! Who's the boy? Is he super duper cute, or what?" 

"Did you actually just say super duper?" 

Louis ignores him. "Is it that blonde kid that blonde homeless looking kid that hangs out in the courtyard instead of going to class and is, like, always playing guitar? What's his name?" 

"Niall," Eleanor tells him, and he nods. 

"Yeah, Nail. He's kinda artsy. You'd be great together." 

"Not Nail," Zayn tells him. 

"Niall's actually in my trig. class," Eleanor says, before Louis can speak again, and Zayn's almost grateful. "He just sits there and complains about not being able to understand. Apparently he's going to be the home stay family for some foreign kid."

"Harry?" Louis asks, and Eleanor nods. 

"I think that's his name."

"I'm supposed to show him around school Monday because I need the credits. How much do you wanna bet he wears sweater vests?" 

"Why do I even bother trying to talk to the two of you about my problems?" Zayn asks, subtly attempting to guide their attention back to him. (He needs to invest in some new friends, he thinks. Some that care about him.)

"Sorry," Louis says, but he doesn't even attempt to try and sound earnest. "I just really hate sweater vests. Is it Josh?" 

"What?" 

"Your future husband. Josh?" 

"Who's Josh?"

"Josh - uh, shit, I don't know his late name," Louis shrugs. "S'like Fine, or Delicious or summat. He hangs out with Liam and Co." 

"Liam?" Zayn repeats, and apparently even his name is enough to switch on Zayn's inner teenage girl. He wills it to stay the fuck down. 

"Is there another Liam that goes to our school?" 

"Yes," Eleanor says immediately, but Louis spares her only a sideways glance, more or less waving her off. 

"Not that I would know." 

"I actually use to tutor his ex girlfriend," Eleanor pipes up, ignoring Louis completely. "Liam's, not Josh's. We ended up sleeping together before Liam found out. Then they broke up and I was with her for like a year and a half. You guys remember Danielle?" 

Zayn nearly snorts aloud, because yes, of course he remembers Danielle. She and Eleanor had been together when Zayn had met them, shortly before Eleanor had managed to slot herself into Zayn's life without warning. They had seemed happy enough, but apparently Danielle hadn't thought so, and had been cheating on Eleanor with about four different people for a good half of their relationship. By way of revenge, Eleanor had broken up with her by pinning posters exposing what she had done and how awful she had been all around the school. Zayn had helped her put them up. That's actually how they became friends. 

"She seemed like such a nice girl," Louis muses thoughtfully. Zayn actually snorts, at that. 

"She was fucking awful," he says. 

Eleanor lifts one shoulder. "It turned out fine. I got to publicly humiliate her, and I saved Liam's ass. Technically I'm a hero." 

"Liam's actually supposed to tutor me," Zayn admits finally, twisting his mouth to one side. "M'supposed to ring him later today so he can come 'round and help me with English."

"You need help with school?" Eleanor asks skeptically, the same moment Louis slams his hand against the table. " _Liam_?"

Zayn doesn't get a word in. "It's Liam!" He cries. "You fucking like Liam, oh my God. Is this why you're moping? Oh my God." 

"Fuck off, Louis," Zayn replies, though his body, an open book of it's own accord, decides to defy him again, and he can feel his ears start to get hot as he looks away. 

"Oh my God," Louis repeats. 

"Oh my God," Eleanor agrees, and Zayn wants to die. "Louis' right? It's Liam?" Zayn can only bring himself to shrug, and she laughs, far too cloying. "Aww, honey."

"Fuck off." 

She laughs again, and Zayn ducks his head. It doesn't do much good, what with Louis still in his lap, who coos softly as his flush darkens. Not willing to say anything, Zayn only bites his tonguee, slowly starting to truly question why he ever tells his friends anything. The crippling embarrassment is never a part he can avoid. 

"You should call him," Louis says finally. 

Zayn doesn't look up. "What?" 

"Call him, you should," he repeats, and Zayn rolls his eyes. 

"Why?"

"Because you're an idiot, and need the help," he tells him, holding a hand out as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Zayn frowns. "Also, because you're incredibly rude lately, and need to get laid." 

"I am not -" 

Louis ignores him. (Zayn's not surprised.) He rises slowly, and pads to the counter, hopping up to sit next to his phone before switching it on. Zayn tries to protest, but his words fall on deaf ears, and before he knows it Louis' throwing his phone at him and Zayn's narrowly managing to keep from dropping it. 

"What the hell?" He asks, loudly, and Louis only holds a finger to his lips. 

"It's ringing." 

Without a hope of maintaining his composure, Zayn's eyes widen, locked on the screen which is, surely enough, lit up with Liam's name. He wants to panic, and end the call, because fuck, no, what? But his fingers refuse to move, and before he knows it, a click sounds, and Liam's voice melts from the speakers, grainy and amused. 

"Zayn?" 

"Fuck." (Fuck.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys should follow me on [tumblr](http://malikvodka.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow im so sorry this took so long to get up??? like im a bad person and a bad friend and im so sorry!!!!! the next chapter is literally almost finished so it will be up today/tomorrow/the next day and i mean it this time

Because he's a huge fucking idiot, Zayn panics. 

Liam's voice, tinny and tiny and oh, so amused, drops from the speakers, and Zayn's stomach simultaneously drops to his knees. A small switch within his mind is flipped off, and with it, his intelligence, and he stares at his phone blankly for a long few moments, before he tosses it to Eleanor. Her eyes widen, and she appears to be riding the same mental boat as Zayn, maybe because she fucked Liam's girlfriend. She shakes her head, and throws the phone at Louis, who narrowly manages to keep from dropping it and falling off the counter. He raises his eyebrows, just as lost as the rest of them, and Zayn's ability to think switches on just long enough for him to think that's probably why they're all friends to begin with. They're all fucking idiots. 

Louis glances down at the phone in his hands, and bites his lip, clearly not anticipating needing to save the day when he'd dialed Liam's number. He wets his lips, and Zayn, still a fucking idiot, watches him and bites his lip and clings to the small hope that Louis will at least pretend he loves Zayn and rescue the call. But Louis, and even bigger fucking idiot, panics at the last possible moment and throws the phone back to Zayn. 

Who whines. Because he's an idiot. 

"Zayn?" Sounds from the speakers again, though Liam sounds miles less amused; almost concerned, really, and that turns Zayn on for reasons he can't even explain. 

"I'm here," he says finally, and he sounds out of breath. "Sorry about that." 

And he's not, really. He hates to admit it, especially considering how very badly he wants to map all of Liam's tattoos with his tongue, but he would much rather be jumping out of the living room window than talking to Liam right now. Which sounds terrible, yes, but, as Zayn is now completely certain, he's a massive fucking idiot, and he doesn't really need Liam to know that. 

"S'fine," Liam says, and it isn't, really, because Zayn's hormonal and he needs new friends. "Was there something you needed?" 

"No," Zayn replies immediately. Though after moment passes, and everybody's had a good laugh at his expense, he clears his throat, ears pink. "I mean, yeah." 

Liam at least tries not to laugh at him again. Zayn really appreciates it. "What would that be?" 

"As you may have noticed," Zayn tells him, "I'm a fucking idiot."

"What the fuck's that make me, then?" Louis mumbles, voice low, and Zayn doesn't so much as hesitate as he holds the phone away from his ear and grumbles, "A fucking idiot."

Eleanor high fives him across the table. 

He tries not to feel too self assured as he holds the phone to his ear again, Liam's laughter sounding from the other side. He doesn't say anything, though, politely prompting Zayn to continue. 

Which he doesn't hesitate to do. "And I could really use some English help," he hints. "There's this huge project coming up in class, on Romeo and Juliet, and I, like, suck." 

"Dick," Louis grumbles bitterly, and Eleanor quirks a brow at him. 

"You are literally gay," she says. He shrugs. 

Zayn rolls his eyes, and sighs, long suffering. Liam either doesn't notice, or pretends he doesn't, for Zayn's sake. (Zayn's grateful either way.) "I hadn't even noticed," Liam notes, and Zayn wants to laugh. "I happen to know an excellent English tutor, though, if you want me to send him by."

"Please?" He replies, without purposefully meaning to sound like a fifteen year old girl. (Assuming fifteen year old girls are the only people left that say please.)

Liam laughs. "'Course. He'll be 'round in about an hour?" 

"I'll be here," Zayn assures him, because he's a fucking idiot, and it takes him a moment to remember that Liam has virtually no idea where here is. He quickly prattles off his address, and Liam laughs again before he bids him goodbye, and Zayn, long after he ends the call, can still almost hear Liam's smirk rattling around in his mind. 

"Well," he huffs finally, looking up to meet Louis and Eleanor's curious eyes. "I fucking hate you two." 

. 

It takes Zayn a long, long time to convince them to leave.

He loves them to death, honestly. They have moments where they can be darling, and supportive, and they constantly have Zayn's back despite the fact that he really is a fucking idiot, but sometimes, with love, he wants them gone. 

They don't actually want to go, though. 

And they put up quite a fight. And it takes Zayn way too long to get them out of his flat. 

He manages, eventually, about half an hour into his allotted time, with promises that he'll keep Eleanor up to date, and best wishes to Louis and the sweater vest exchange student. He shuts the door, before any more words can be exchanged, and locks it before Louis can try and explode back inside. He drops the confiscated key back on the kitchen table, and makes his way towards the bathroom. 

He hates himself for being even the smallest bit nervous, but he can't turn it off. Liam may hate him, and think him a total tool, but Zayn kinda wants him, is the thing, and he can't help but cling to the small shred of hope that maybe, possibly, he can convince Liam that he should want him too. (He's kinda pathetic.)

He climbs from the shower with approximately nine minutes left, and dresses as quickly as he can. He almost considers putting thought into what he pulls on, but then the doorbell rings, and that train of thought jumps out the window with the last of Zayn's nerve. He quickly wraps himself in something that looks vaguely like a pair of joggers (which is strange, really, 'cause he hasn't jogged a day in his life), and a jumper he kind of drowns in (he has no idea whose it use to be or where it came from), and answers the door looking like the flustered fifteen year old girl he is on the inside. 

And Liam's standing there, just beyond the threshold, in thick boots and a thin vest and Zayn very much wants to jump him. His jeans are tight, impractically so, and his very lovely, heavily tattooed arms are on full display. (He has tattoos everywhere. Zayn kind of salivates.)

"Hi," he greets, breathless. 

Liam's answering smirk is crooked. "Hey babe," he nods, and babe, fuck. "Don't you look dashing." 

"Uh, thanks," Zayn manages, trying to smile as he steps aside. "Won't you come in?" (Who even says that anymore?) (Zayn hates himself.)

Liam, because he's a gentleman, Zayn's decides, doesn't call him out on it, and steps into the house as though Zayn's his friend and not a massive fucking idiot. He glances around as he does so, and his gaze lingers in the direction of the kitchen, where peals of laughter still sound from the daycare across the street. Liam turns to him, brow quirked. 

Zayn shrugs. "There's a daycare," he explains, with a wave of his hand that really isn't very cool. "They love life over there or summat." 

Liam raises his eyebrows again, though his answering smile is noticeably less smug. "I've always wanted children," he adds, and it's idle, but it makes Liam that much more human and that makes Zayn's heart swell. 

"Have you?" He asks, trying for casual, and Liam nods. 

"'Course. Haven't you?" 

Zayn lifts one shoulder. "I guess. I've never really thought about it." 

"Well you've for years to think about it, now," Liam tells him with a laugh. Zayn shrugs again, and Liam smiles, miles more sincere. "Would you like to get started?" 

Zayn nods quickly. "Right. That we can do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on tumblr at malikvodka.tumblr.com (im not gonna link it cause thats too much work)


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahaha im literally so proud of myself right now i told you i wasnt lying. the next chapter might take a bit longer to get up, cause i really need to get around to finishing the sequel of my shadow weighs a ton, but it shouldn't take too long to get back to this. 
> 
> and im sorry about the lack of italics but im posting this from my phone and its being difficult 
> 
> also follow me on tumblr at malikvodka

The next hour of Zayn's life passes very slowly. Not because he's bored, because oh, god, he could spend the rest of his life just sitting next to Liam and he'd probably be content. No, the next hour passes slowly because Zayn is fucking stupid, and he doesn't understand. 

"No, stop," he says again, for what has to have been the hundred and second time. Liam is apparently actually very smart, and a shockingly talented teacher, but he does this thing where he expects Zayn to understand something and presses on without warning. It's not as though Zayn can't follow the story, because Zayn's at least somewhat literate, but he's a mostly practical person, in theory, and it's hard to find the romance in a play where everybody's fifteen and unapologetically dramatic. (He needs time to digest. Infer.) "I don't get it," he says.

Liam glances up again. "Don't get what?"

"Anything," he says. "What the fuck happened to Rosaline?" 

He snorts. "Romeo's 'ex-girlfriend'?" 

"Yes," Zayn nods. "Wasn't he in love with her, like, three scenes ago?" 

"And now he's not," Liam nods. 

"I don't think that's how love works."

"It's how Romeo loves," he states. "Quickly and passionately." 

Zayn twists his mouth to one side. Romeo's kind of a huge fucking tool. "Who's to say his relationship with Juliet wasn't about to be just like that, though?"

"Romeo." 

He snorts. "What?"

Liam sighs, as though only just realizing how bloody stupid Zayn is. (Zayn's actually quite surprised it's taken him so long.) "Normally, Romeo's interest in women is shallow and superficial," he says. "He loves them for a moment, and then someone new comes along. With Juliet, it's not like that." Zayn opens his mouth to protest, but Liam's quick to raise a hand. "No. With Juliet, he sees more than her face, or whatever. Throughout the story, no more women are mentioned, not because they aren't there, but because Romeo no longer notices them. And Romeo has been 'in love' enough times that he knows something's different with Juliet." 

That almost makes sense. "But he'd only known her like twenty minutes. How'd he already know something was different?"

Liam looks momentarily thoughtful. "Love at first sight," he says finally. "It's like how in every bad TV show the girls walks into a coffee shop and locks eyes with the tall bloke in the dumb jeans she marries later on. Or movies, the hero's having a bad day and takes a spot on the bus next to a beautiful young woman he's smitten with instantly. Romeo's story's no different than that. He looks at Juliet, and he feels something he felt with none of the girls he'd been with before. She's different." 

Zayn frowns again, because that's actually really sweet and thoughtful, and he hadn't been prepared for that. "Okay, but," he argues eventually, "they'd been together three days, and they both killed themselves, right? I highly doubt that bloke on the bus would jump the gun like that." 

"Have you ever loved somebody like that?" Liam asks. "That you physically cannot fathom living without them?" 

"No," Zayn says, and Liam nods.

"There you go. You have no opinion." 

"Alright," Zayn agrees, because he supposes that really does make sense. "Have you ever been in love like that?" 

"Like that? No," Liam scoffs. 

"Do you want to be?" 

Liam looks up at him, and blinks, looking as though he'd never actually considered it. (It crosses Zayn's mind that if they were actually in a TV show, this would be the precise moment that Liam would fall in love with him.) "I don't know," he admits after a moment, cocking his head (and putting on full display the watercolour tattoo that sits at the junction of his neck and shoulder). "I'd love to love like that, I think. I'd just hate to lose like that."

Zayn can't keep himself from cracking a smile, as he reaches out with one hand to reassuringly pat Liam's knee. It's probably an idiot move, but Zayn's long since accepted that he actually is a fucking idiot, and he's wanted to touch Liam for too long to think about pulling away. "What would you do in his place?" He asks. "Say you had no choice but to fall in love. Would you try and fight it?" 

"Depends on whether or not I thought I could."

Zayn sits back slowly against the bottom of the couch, withdrawing his hand and twisting his mouth to one side. He's almost angered by how intelligent Liam really is. Zayn had a hard enough time being in love with him when he was just another pretty face. 

A few minutes pass between the pair of them, before Liam stands from the couch, sliding down to the floor next to Zayn with grace that Zayn can't keep himself from following. He watches the way Liam's shirt rides up as he shifts, the way his arms flex when he pushes his fingers through his hair, the way the veins in his throat stand at attention as he clears his throat. 

It takes a strange amount of self control on Zayn's part, but he slowly manages to will his gaze upwards, fixing his eyes on Liam's expectant expression as he attempts to school his own into one he hopes is casual. "What?" He asks, as Liam quirks a brow, but his voice escapes much terser than normal and he knows it gives him away. He clears throat. 

"I've noticed, you know," Liam says, before Zayn can try and defend himself again, and Zayn realizes he's completely fucked the minute the words leave Liam's lips. "It took me a while to catch on, honestly. But I noticed." 

Zayn only bites his lip. Liam shakes his head, and Zayn notices, for the first time, he doesn't at all look disgusted at the thought of Zayn or Zayn's blatant ogling. "You don't need to defend yourself," he says, and he says it softly. "I do it. But you haven't noticed, so I obviously do it much more subtly."

That pulls Zayn up short for a moment. "What?" 

Liam lifts one shoulder. "I don't know if this has come to your attention or not, but you're kind of an Adonis in glasses and ugly jumpers." 

Zayn glances down at himself, at his currently ugly jumper, and frowns as he tries his best to find meaning in the nonsensical words Liam's repeating. (Liam thinks Zayn is attractive?!) Zayn's not attractive, by any means, really, and there's no way Liam hasn't noticed the fact. It briefly crosses his mind that this is Liam's thing; sleeping with and leaving randoms, after literally charming their pants off. It occurs to Zayn that maybe that's exactly what's happening; that Liam's taking advantage of how (apparently) very obvious Zayn's attraction to him is. But then Liam's kissing him, actually kissing him, lips pressed against his own, and Zayn's protests die before they can even be formed. 

He presses forward, after a moment or eight of surprise, returning the kiss as best he can with what little self restraint he has left. But it's in vain, and Liam's arms are moving around his waist, and the feeling is even more than Zayn had hoped it would be. 

He pushes his fingers into Liam's hair, and quickly parts his lips, needing /more, closer, sooner/. Zayn's been craving this, for an impractical amount of time, and now that he has it, it's addictive, but it's not enough. He whines softly against Liam's lips, who seems to get the picture, and pushes his hands up beneath Zayn's shirt without further prompting. 

And then Zayn's ugly jumper is up, and off, and thrown haphazardly across the room, leaving him too exposed, and open to the mercy of Liam's dark gaze. He seems to have frozen, and Zayn freezes in response, briefly considering that this may be the moment's bitter end. But then Liam's hands are on his hips again, secure enough to leave bruises, and Zayn can't bite back the small moan he emits as Liam looks him over a growl.

"You have /tattoos/," he realizes lowly, and oh, yeah. 

Zayn doesn't have that many - not in comparison to Liam, at least - only a few small images patterned down his arms, that he couldn't not get when the opportunity arose. 

"I have another," he finally murmurs, hooking his thumbs beneath his waistband, and Liam's eyes flash. "Do you wanna see it?" 

Liam quirks a brow, expression completely clouded over, and Zayn, once he'd managed to regain the ability to think past how absolutely hot that is, takes that as his cue to continue. He tries to look as innocent as he can, as he pushes his pants down his hips, looking up at Liam from beneath his eyelashes until he feels long fingers come to curl around his wrists. He looks up instantaneously, just as Liam looks down, and wastes no time before he pulls Zayn's hands away from himself, just to replace them with his own. He pulls them down, and off, much more quickly than he had his jumper; he looks Zayn up, and down, with an expression so much darker. 

Zayn, with the small part of his mind that still functions, thinks in small celebration that this is an actual thing, that's really happening. He rarely gets what he wants out of life, much less whom, and now - 

\- now, what he currently wants out of life is pushing his thighs apart, and forcefully reattaching their lips. 

He's forcing Zayn's legs around his waist, cradling him against his chest, breathing, "Bedroom?", into the kiss as he rises to his feet. 

Zayn can't keep himself from moaning again as he points him in the right direction.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay wow hello again!!! sorry it took me a month to get around to updating but idk i procrastinate everything apparently even things i want to do. the next chapters already in the works so it should be up sooner than this one was. im so sorry it took so long thank you for not giving up on me!!

The next ten minutes of Zayn's life pass very, very quickly. One minute, he's sitting in the living room, stripped of his shirt and trying to catch his breath as Liam runs his hands up his thighs. The patterns of his tattoos are being traced, his eyes are blown wide, his skin is alight with the fire that Liam's burning fingertips create. The next, without warning, he's splayed naked across his bed, hands fisted in both his sheets, and his own hair.

Liam's standing at the foot of his bed, a Greek God, nearly naked, but not near enough. His boxers are black, and tight, and impractically thin, and leave virtually nothing to Zayn's imagination. (And with Zayn's mind currently so clouded, he's glad he doesn't have to think about it.) He can see, without interruption, the tattoos splayed across his thighs, the sharp jut of his hipbones, the thick outline of his cock straining visibly against the taut fabric. He's hard, so much so it must be painful, flushed all the way down his chest and Zayn feels a momentary swell of pride. (He's the reason Liam's dick could probably cut glass.) His gaze is dark, and his smirk is crooked, and as he looks Zayn over, Zayn can't keep himself from moaning again. 

The more time passes, the more it seems to slow, and by the time Liam is finally completely stripped, and on top of him, Zayn's breath is heavy and his skin is flushed and he's taken aback by how much he absolutely needs him. Liam's cock his heavy against Zayn's hip, and his fingertips are like fire against his heated skin, his hands are everywhere but where Zayn absolutely needs them. He moans again, rocking his own hips upward slowly, scrambling for friction until Liam's hands come to curl around his small waist. 

"Hips down," he growls in his ear, lips brushing the skin, and goosebumps break out over Zayn's skin. (He can't pinpoint at which point he became a virginal teenage girl, but he's already too far gone to care to question it.) He only moans again, tipping his head back against the mattress and closing his eyes as Liam nips at the shell of his ear. "Lube?" He mumbles, low and hoarse, and Zayn has to bite back a whimper as he nods. 

Reluctantly, he moves out from under Liam, sitting up slowly and reaching for the nightstand next to his bed. The bottle is buried, beneath coloured pencils and notebooks and several copies of Zayn's car keys he'd thought he'd lost, and it briefly occurs to Zayn that he doesn't get laid near enough. He nearly comments, before he feels the bottle beneath his fingertips, and his words break off with a sigh of relief. He turns back to Liam, who accepts the bottle without word, and motions for Zayn to lay back with one hand as he uncaps it with the other. 

Zayn lays back down beneath him, more than willing, spreading his legs quickly so Liam can kneel between them. Time's almost stopped completely at this point, and Zayn can feel himself growing more and more impatient, though when Liam presses the tip of a slick finger against Zayn's entrance, and time starts up again, Zayn's heart stops in response. 

He's been waiting for this moment, apparently not subtly, since the moment he's laid eyes on Liam, and it's actually, really, finally happening, in real life. He almost doesn't know how to feel, whether he's relieved or in disbelief, but then Liam's pushing his finger into him, slick and slow, and Zayn loses the ability to think all together. 

"Oh," he moans, voice airy. Liam only hums quietly, as he slowly pulls his finger out, pressing his lips to the hollow of Zayn's throat. He sucks a bruise into his skin, and thrusts his finger back inside him, and when Zayn whines, when he crooks his fingers, he smirks against his neck. 

Before long, Liam's got three fingers inside Zayn, working him open with lazy thrusts that barely miss the spot Zayn so desperately needs them. He whines again, his best attempt at voicing his protest, but all Liam does is kiss him once and pull his fingers out all together. Zayn's answering hiss is immediate, and completely unheeded. Liam only smirks again, and presses a gentle kiss to Zayn's lips, before moving to kneel between his legs again, open bottle in hand. 

He wastes no more time as he lubes himself up, and Zayn's almost grateful. Barely a moment passes before he's discarding the bottle again, pushing Zayn's legs further apart and shifting between them. He wraps a hand around the base of his cock, and slowly presses the tip to Zayn's entrance, and in that moment, everything's almost too much. His breath catches, and his heart stutters, and his skin is crawling and alight with fire. Liam's hand on his hip burns, Zayn's bones ache with desperation, he's panting and impatient and it's too much, but not enough at the same time. And then Liam, as though he's afraid Zayn might break, is pushing into him slowly, and the ache fades, replaced by a burn that has Zayn arching up off the mattress.

He moans again, pain and pleasure and delicious discomfort, and wraps his legs around Liam's waist as he presses his hips flush against Zayn's arse. They stay that way for a moment, completely entangled, until Zayn's breath starts to even out and his impatience is returning. He whimpers softly, and rolls his hips, and Liam, ever smarter than he looks, takes the hint and starts to pull out slowly. The muscles in his back shift beneath Zayn's hands, and Zayn moans again, raking his nails across his skin and drinking in the hoarse hiss he emits. 

He slowly rolls his shoulders, before he thrusts back into Zayn, and presses their hips together again more roughly than Zayn had been expecting. Zayn, with something of a heavy cry, arches up off the mattress, nerve endings on fire as he clenches around Liam and draws another long groan from his lips. Zayn can only moan again. 

It doesn't take the pair of them long to strike up a rhythm; breathing laboured, bodies intertwined, skin alight with flame. Zayn's cries are on loop, as Liam continues to angle his thrusts perfectly, and in what seems like no time, Zayn's thighs are shaking, his stomach in knots. 

"Liam," he manages to breathe, arching up off the mattress again as Liam nips at the hollow of his throat. He keens. "Liam, I -- I'm --" 

He can feel Liam nod. "Yeah, babe," he breathes, hands coming to curl around Zayn's waist. He pins him to the mattress, before he kisses his jaw again, snapping his hips with a particularily well aimed thrust. "Me too." 

Zayn tries to nod, but Liam's thrusts are becoming more forceful, and all he finds himself able to manage is a loud whine of agreement. He starts to shudder again, before he drops his head back against the pillows, eyes fluttering shut as the heat in his stomach gets to be too much. He cries out again, before Liam wraps a hand around his cock, and that's all it takes before Zayn's keening and coming and arching off the bed with a forceful cry of Liam's name. 

Liam growls. Nipping at Zayn's skin again, he manages only a final, sloppy thrust, before his hips twitch and he comes without warning. Zayn moans again at the feeling, fucked out and overstimulated, and lays pliant as Liam pulls out gingerly and collapses onto the mattress next to him. Once Zayn's mind's cleared, and his breathing has slowed itself to a mostly normal level, he glances over at the figure next to him, questions on his lips. But before he can voice them, Liam's lips are pressed once more against his own, and Zayn melts into the embrace despite his best attempts. 

They don't leave that bed for the rest of the weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also i have a blog and it would be a good idea to follow that (malikvodka.tumblr.com)


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look im finally updating again!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ im sorry it took so long and omg i promised myself i would get this one up sooner than seven years later but apparently im a liar and im sorry
> 
> i promise the next chapter will be up sooner than this one was, and i cross my heart this time!! in the meantime, follow me on [tumblr](http://www.malikvodka.tumblr.com) and send me prompts if you want because christmas break is coming up and im gonna need something to do with my time lol

When Zayn wakes up Monday morning, he's alone. 

He doesn't know why he expected different — maybe because, on an unconscious level, he's sappy and hopeful and still fifteen. Maybe it's because that's how it always seems to play out in movies, and Zayn's life is starting to look progressively more like a teen angst film; maybe (and this is the kicker, Zayn thinks) it's because that's just how he wanted things to happen. 

He knew from the beginning that this was Liam's thing, winning over randoms before sleeping with them and more or less leaving them to rot. And he remembers thinking, distinctly, that he should be careful, because if there was one thing Zayn had been certain of it was that trusting Liam was probably a bad idea. But he was just, he had been so real, and down to Earth, (and not at all an asshole), and some small part of Zayn had clung to the hope that maybe Liam was a real person just made to look like a bad guy. 

Figures he'd be wrong. 

It was almost comical, really. The only traces of himself Liam had left were stained sheets and a dull ache in places Zayn didn't know felt pain. For a few long moments, he even stares up at ceiling, unsure if Liam had actually been there or if his imagination was much more vivid than he had previously thought. But then he sits up (and pain kind of ripples through his everywhere), and he's relieved for half a moment before the hurt sets in. He's not sure who he's more upset with — Liam, for leaving him like he did, or himself, for believing he wouldn't. 

He sighs finally, soft and self deprecating, before he starts to roll from the bed with a small wince of discomfort. He's tempted to just sit back down, maybe pout for a few hours, sleep until his arse no longer hurts and his heart doesn't feel as heavy. His parents aren't even home — they had told him through the door late Saturday night that they were both going to be out of town for a few days — and he's certain that he could get away with skipping school in favour of nursing his mental health. But just as he's sitting back down, with a flinch, there's a knock at his bedroom door, and he has to keep himself from sighing again as he glances over at it. 

"Yeah?" 

"Babe?" It's Eleanor. "It's time to get ready."

Zayn huffs out a breath. "M'not feeling so great this morning. I think I might stay home."

"You can't," she urges, in the same, gentle, (unfortunately convincing) tone she normally uses to get Zayn to get off his ass and be productive. "We promised Louis we'd meet him at school to help out with his exchange student, remember?"

"Does he really need my help?" 

"Probably. He's hopeless," she reminds him, and he can hear the grin in her words. He smiles slightly. "C'mon, babe. I brought breakfast."

He glances up slowly. "Muffins?" 

She laughs. "Yes, muffins. Come on, or we'll be late."

Zayn stares at the door for a long few moments, before he rises to his feet. He's still sore, and a bit sad, and more exhausted than he's felt in a long while, but he, admittedly, really likes muffins. He dresses slowly, and adjusts his hair (realistically he thinks he just makes it worse), before he quietly pads out of the room to meet Eleanor. He has bruises scattered down his throat he knows he can't hide, and a small hitch in his step that's almost more obvious, and the gasp Eleanor emits tells him it didn't take her long to notice either. 

"You didn't," she breathes, and Zayn's answering frown is pinched. 

"Maybe."

"Oh my God," she says, "why?" 

He only lifts one shoulder, and she frowns, nearly tripping over herself in the act of jumping from the couch. (It's kind of funny to watch.) "Zayn, oh my God. You could do so much better. He smokes —" 

"I do, too." 

"— and he's got the tattoos of a middle aged Hells Angel —" 

"I think it's kinda hot," he admits. 

"— and I'm pretty sure he doesn't own a car —" 

"Well -" 

"— and he treats everybody around him like shit because he thinks he can." Zayn can't bring himself to argue that; he can barely find it in him to frown again and glance down at his feet. Eleanor takes a step back. "And he left, didn't he?" She murmurs. 

When Zayn only nods, she sighs again, wrapping her arms around his torso, tightly and without warning. He returns the embrace, and for a long few moments they stand in silence, until Eleanor finally steps back and pushes her finger through her hair. "Well, now we have to go to school," she chirps, and when Zayn only quirks a brow, she grins wickedly. It's frightening. "You have to look happy and hot and let Liam know how completely unphased you are by him. Let him know he can eat his heart out." 

"Do people still say that?" Zayn asks, but Eleanor ignores him, in favour of taking his hand and guiding him through the living room. 

And while Zayn hates to admit it, he also knows Eleanor probably knows more about what she's talking about than he would, and he follows her from the flat nothing more than a small sigh. (And maybe another uncomfortable wince.)


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again friends look who's back!! super duper late but also super sorry and with a longer chapter to make up for it!! 
> 
> im gonna try to keep all the updates longer from now on, to make up for only updating every millennium, but im not gonna make any promises just incase that doesn't happen and im a liar
> 
> also sorry for the // for emphasis, but im updating from my phone and it is SO HARD to italicize

"You didn't," is the first thing Zayn hears from Louis. 

He's sitting on the hood of Eleanor's car, back against the windshield, nursing his third cigarette and humming Christmas carols to himself as she prattles on about his health (and the merits of quitting smoking) from beside him. It's just started to snow, and he's starting to melt snowflakes with his lighter, when a small fist is suddenly slammed against the metal next to his hip and Louis' face appears uncomfortably close to his own. 

"You didn't," he scowls. 

"What?"

"You fucked him," he replies sharply, leaning closer to Zayn. Zayn recoils. "I was just kidding when I told you to fuck him, I didn't think you'd actually do it! Have some self respect, man!"

Zayn sputters. "Wah—...how do you even know about that already?" He asks, pulled up short for what he thinks must be the third time that morning. Louis doesn't say anything, but Eleanor's rant falters, and Zayn turns to her with an expression he hopes is betrayed. (It's probably blank.) "You didn't," he mocks. 

"I might have," she allows, and Zayn blows another plume of smoke at her. 

"You're a bad friend."

"I'm sorry!" Eleanor sighs. "But he had a right to know!"

"That doesn't mean you had the right to tell him."

"I'm sorry!" She repeats, and her voice is suddenly so shrill Zayn can tell she's being honest. (He thinks it's kinda sweet, how distressed she is.) "I wasn't thinking! All I said was that you got laid, I didn't think he'd be smart enough to figure out who you slept with!"

"Hey," Louis huffs, but Eleanor ignores him. 

"And — and honestly, Zayn, look at you," she says. "I'm sure he eventually would have figured it out." 

Zayn doesn't need to look at himself to know he looks like a wreck. His stance is careful, his hair probably still looks like a nest, and he's reminded again of the bruises splayed down his throat and across his collarbones. He probably could have done more to look less like he just got laid, (like maybe try to find a turtle neck. He's sure he must own one), but he didn't really care enough to feel self conscious about it until Louis starts to look him over with narrowed eyes. Zayn would squirm if he wasn't still so hesitant about moving. "/What/?" 

"I just can't believe you," he sighs, shaking his head as though he doesn't hold the house record for making and regretting terrible decisions. He sighs again. "Was he at least good in the sack?" 

"Wah — /fine/."

"How's his cock?" 

"/What/? Fine."

"I've heard rumors that it's more than just fine." 

"What?"

"Doesn't he have, like, a serpent in his pants?" 

"What?"

"Does his voice get higher or deeper when he moans?" 

Zayn cocks a brow, and fleetingly considers ripping out Louis' tongue. "I don't —" He starts, but then Eleanor sidles up to him, wrapping an arm around Zayn's waist before looking down the car at Louis pointedly. 

"Don't you have an exchange student to greet?" She asks, and it's so obviously meant to change the subject Zayn's almost surprised that it works. 

"I do," Louis agrees solemnly. (Zayn makes a mental note to thank her for that later.) "/Harry/. Fucking hell." 

"Where's Harry from?" Zayn asks, grateful enough for the change in subject he's willing to pretend like he cares. 

Louis rolls his eyes. "/France/. He's fucking French. If he's wearing a fucking beret, I swear to fucking God —" 

"I don't think they actually do that," Zayn says. 

"Tourists in France will," Eleanor supplies. "And the natives will laugh at them."

Zayn nods at her. Louis shrugs. "You never know. When people come here they'll do literally anything to make sure other people know they aren't English. Nobody wants to be from England. We're like the European America." He wrinkles his nose. "And we don't even have, like, a Channing Tatum to help balance it out."

"Shame, too," Zayn agrees, trying to look as though he's interested in what Louis' saying (while at the same time attempting to blow a smoke ring).

Louis nods seriously. "I don't wanna do this. How much do you wanna bet he's gonna be pretentious and wear a lot of sweater vests?"

As it turns out, Louis' wrong. (Completely, absolutely, catastrophically wrong.) Within minutes, first bell finally rings, and the three of them, for the sake of Louis' sanity, take their time collecting their things before they climb the front steps of the school. They walk to the office slowly, but it's a short walk as it is, and they step into the office just as the principle steps around the front desk; with, unbelievably, one of the most remarkably attractive teenagers Zayn's ever seen in tow. 

He's tall and built and broad, and Zayn would almost compare him to Liam if the thought of his name didn't make his heart ache. He has curly hair, pushed back from his face, (and held in place by a ridiculous American bandana), and the sleeves of his white button down are pushed up to his elbows to reveal dark tattoos that contrast the light fabric in the best way. And then he grins, and he's got dimples, and Zayn swears the three of them make identical pained noises in unison. 

"Ah, Louis," the principle greets, and Louis blinks up at her reluctantly, almost as though he doesn't want to have to stop staring at Harry. (Zayn doesn't think he can blame him.) "Right on time. This —" she nods at him "—is Harry." 

Harry steps forward slowly, and holds a hand out to him, which Louis stares at for a long few moments before he finally takes. "Hi," he says. 

"'ello," Harry greets. His accent is thick and Zayn swears Louis whimpers. "I — I am 'arry." 

Louis nods weakly. "Yeah, I know. I'm Louis." 

"Nice — nice meet you, Louis?" Harry tries, and Louis finally grins, as though the sound of his name had helped retrigger his charisma. (Or something. Zayn's still too busy staring to be more eloquent.)

"Pleasure, Harry," he chimes. 

The principle laughs. "I'll leave you two to it, then," she says, and glances at Louis as she steps back. "If you need anything, just come down here and have the office page me." When Louis nods, she smiles again, and prattles something off to Harry in easy French before walking back around the desk. 

Louis turns to Zayn almost the moment she disappears. "This is gonna be so much more fun then I thought." 

"I'm pretty sure tour guides aren't supposed to sleep with their tourists," Zayn tells him. 

"I'm pretty sure I don't care," Louis retorts, moving to stand next to him with a proud grin. "Harry," he says, "these are my friends Eleanor, and Zayn."

"Hi," Eleanor chirps, and Harry smiles, shaking her hand as she holds it out to him. 

"'i," he grins. Eleanor giggles, and he laughs as he drops her hand, but just as Zayn's admiring how remarkably polite he is, Harry's turning to him and frowning. 

Which, oh. 

Louis starts to laugh, and Zayn frowns indignantly, when Harry's face lights up with realization and he quickly shakes his head. "Oh," he says. "I — I am sorry. I did not mean—..." He stops, apparently frustrated with his less than par ability to communicate. "You look just like a model from France."

"No way," Louis scoffs. 

Harry nods. "Yes."

"Is he the before model for a plastic surgery advert?" He mumbles bitterly. 

Harry looks at him blankly, before he turns to Zayn, and smiles. "You are very beautiful," he says. 

Zayn smirks at Louis. 

Louis pouts. 

. 

By the end of the day, Harry's kissed Zayn's knuckles at least eight times, and Louis' stopped talking to him. 

He's not quite sure what's going on — if Harry's actually fallen in love with him or he's just being overly polite — but Liam was around to witness at least half the kisses, and Louis' huffy as Zayn's ever seen him, and Zayn sees it as karma for the both of them pissing him off. 

Zayn's standing at Eleanor's car when last bell finally rings, leaning back against the passenger side door and taking a long drag of his second cigarette. Louis' since dragged Harry to his car, to get him away from Zayn and drive him home, and Eleanor's collecting the homework she's missed after spending all day with Louis and Harry, and that leaves Zayn locked out in the snow waiting for his ride home. 

He's cold, and it's still snowing, and he's almost about to try and walk when a car pulls into the spot next to him. Zayn doesn't pay it any immediate attention, until he hears the window being rolled down, and he glances up to the chorus of the driver leaning out the window and whistling. 

It's Liam. Zayn quirks a brow. 

"Hey, beautiful," he greets, and smirks, and Zayn nearly narrows his eyes. "Need a ride?" 

"No," he replies immediately. 

Liam rolls his eyes. "I know you do. Come on."

"I'll pass," Zayn insists. He's actually really tempted to say yes, because he actually really doesn't wanna have to walk and risk dying of hypothermia, but he can't fathom why Liam's offering or what more he could want. His first thought is that he's gonna be gang raped and left to die, and that lessens the appeal of the ride, a little bit. "But thank you."

"Come on, babe," Liam repeats, smirking up at Zayn as Zayn looks away. "Ten minutes. I promise not to kill you."

Zayn sighs. He's weak. (Liam's ridiculously attractive.) "Promise?"

Liam promises, and within two minutes Zayn's sitting next to Liam and lighting his third cigarette as they pull from the school parking lot. Zayn's hoping to get home without incident, or a word, but they've barely rounded the corner when Liam glances over at him from the corner of his eye. 

"So who was that guy?"

He exhales. "Which guy?" 

"The one that kept kissing your hand," Liam says tersely, and with a snort of realization, Zayn glances up. 

"Are you joking?" He asks. There's no way that's what Liam wants. There's no way he's jealous. 

Zayn is /absolutely/ gonna take the piss out of this one.

"That's Harry," he says. 

"You two seemed to be awfully close," Liam observes, and Zayn tries to keep himself from smirking as he nods. 

"I know. He gets really clingy after sex. Apparently it's a French thing?"

"You fucked him?" Liam asks, and when Zayn glances over at him he can see him clench his jaw. 

He hums. "Kinda." 

"You certainly work fast." 

"You have no idea how much that means coming from the king of one night stands."

Liam glances over at him. "Is that why you fucked him? To get back at me?" 

"Get back at you for what?" 

It's silent for a moment, before Liam grits, "Leaving you," and hearing it makes Zayn's heart clench. He hates this part — where Liam gets real and apologetic and willing to admit he's done something wrong. 

Zayn bites his cheek. "Made no difference to me. Was hoping you'd be gone in the morning so I wouldn't have to kick you out." 

Liam doesn't say anything, as he pulls into Zayn's driveway, and instead stares at the windshield for a moment in rather uncomfortable silence. It's when Zayn makes a move to get out, that he reaches over, and places a large hand on his thigh. 

"What —" Zayn starts, but his lips are pressed to Liam's before he can finish his sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on tumblr malikvodka.tumblr.com


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so omg i know its been exactly seven years but hello again!! new update!! all you really need to know for this chapter is that some high end ground floor apartments have their own driveways??? so thats why thats a thing??? and wow finally some exciting things are happening!! 
> 
> and dont forget to follow me at malikvodka.tumblr.com and i promise ill try to get my next update done in a couple weeks??? so not years this time!!
> 
> enjoy!!

So Zayn's, like. He's weak. 

He's a small, shy, scared little boy, painted tall with tattoos and a cool demeanor and the hope that he can hide how delicate he truly is. He likes to pretend that he's bold and strong willed, but he knows better than anyone how far from the truth that really is. 

In truth, he's timid and flimsy. He paints on a mask of suave nonchalance, but just behind that, his skin is thinner than paper and torn so much more easily. He's not cool, or bold, or strong, for if he were, he probably would have had the sense to push Liam away, spit in his car, and turn his back on him. But Zayn's weak. Zayn's a flimsy, weak little boy, with a crush bigger than he is, and as pathetic as he knows it probably is, he can't turn away. 

He knows he'll be cast away again, after Liam's done with him, and he knows when he walks next into his flat, it'll probably be with a heavy heart. But he also knows that this is as much as Liam's willing to give him, and Zayn's willing to take what he can get, even if all the aftermath consists of is awkward bruises and minor emotional trauma. 

So when Liam pushes his hand higher up Zayn's thigh, Zayn doesn't stop him. And when he pulls Zayn into the back seat, and starts to pull off his clothes, Zayn doesn't protest. He only speaks up when Liam's got a hand around his own cock, and another on Zayn's hip — and that's only to whimper as he sinks down carefully on his dick. 

Because Zayn's, like, weak. 

He stills for a moment, hands tight on Liam's shoulders. He can feel Liam's fingertips pressed tightly against his hips, and his hot breath fanning out across his throat, and moans breathily to himself as he starts to lift himself up on his knees. Liam nips at his skin as he sinks back down, and Zayn pushes a hand into Liam's hair as he tips his head back slowly. Zayn can feel Liam groan, more than he can hear it, and whimpers again as he rises slowly before pressing his hips back down. 

They had rehearsed this enough, in the days they had spent locked away in Zayn's room, that it didn't take either of them very long to find a proper rhythm. Zayn would sink down partially, before Liam would snap his hips up the rest of the way, fingertips pressed almost too tightly against the top of his arse and the small of his back. He finally bounces back on Liam's cock again, and mewls minutely, and it's not long before his thighs are shaking and fingers twitching and he can feel his stomach heating up. 

"Liam," he warns breathlessly. 

Liam only nods. 

Zayn slowly pulls at his hair again, to the chorus of Liam growling in his ear, before finally tipping his head back and coming between them with nothing more than a rather choked cry. Liam groans again, lips against Zayn's ear, and Zayn can feel Liam's nails biting into his skin as he comes inside him, moments later. 

And after that it gets exactly as awkward as Zayn had predicted. 

Without a word, Liam lifts Zayn from his lap, and places him down onto the seat next to him. Zayn makes a small noise of discomfort, but when Liam completely ignores him — starting, in silence, to pull his clothes back on — Zayn realizes that, oh, that's how it is. He dresses, before he climbs back into the passenger seat, and grabs his bag as he pushes from the car without so much as another word. 

And, yup. His heart kinda hurts. 

He turns to the other car in the drive, with an indignant frown, and glances at his reflection for a long few moments before he starts trying to sort out his hair. It's a rather lost cause, and he's just starting to realize that, when he remembers suddenly that he doesn't own a car and neither of his parents are home. He takes a step back, raking his gaze down the length of it, and curses loudly at the large family of stickers that are painted over the back windows. 

With absolutely no regard for the other car in the drive — and the absolute asshole still inside it — Zayn shoulders his bag and rushes past it and into the building. He tries to keep from sprinting down the hall, and trips over his feet as he pushes open his front door, nearly starting to pray that there wouldn't be anybody waiting for him inside. But, alas. 

"Zayn," Louis greets stiffly. He's sitting at Zayn's kitchen table, next to Harry, hands folded on the table top and lips pressed together together tightly. 

Zayn only sighs. "What are you doing here?" 

"Eleanor called me while I was driving Harry, here, home," he explains, nodding at Harry as though Zayn didn't already know who he was. "She told me she saw you leave with Liam. We decided to make a little detour." 

"How kind of you," Zayn sighs, dropping his bag on the table in front of him, before turning away to pull open the fridge. 

Louis scoffs. "Why do you keep doing this to yourself, Zayn?" 

"Doing what? He drove me home." 

"And then you were parked in the driveway for half an hour, dude," Louis reminds him. "I'm not an idiot. I know what happens when you say goodbye for thirty minutes." 

Zayn rolls his eyes. "Doesn't Harry have to get home?" He asks, trying to change the subject, but when he looks over at Harry, Harry only shrugs. 

"Not really," he replies. 

"Great," Zayn nods. 

Louis scoffs again. "You need to stop doing this to yourself, babe," he says. Zayn doesn't say anything, and he raises his eyebrows. "Seriously. I know he's, like, attractive or whatever, but he kinda treats you like shit." 

"I've seen him twice," Zayn starts to protest, but Louis shakes his head. 

"Eleanor's told me everything." 

He quirks a brow. "She needs to work on her ability to keep secrets."

"I have a right to know," Louis counters. "So I can tell you how fucking stupid you're being." 

Zayn sighs again, running a hand over his hair. "Can we just not talk about this right now?" He asks. "It's over. It won't happen again." 

Louis looks up at him for a long moment, before he nods, expression unreadable. "Alright," he agrees, apparently deciding that Zayn's telling the truth. "If you promise not to do it again." 

"I promise," Zayn says. Zayn lies. 

Two months pass, and true to his word, Louis doesn't so much as speak Liam's name again. Zayn, on the other hand, breaks his promise at least fifteen times over. 

Liam's still a tutor, and, what with with Zayn still in need of tutoring, he came back around to Zayn's flat every couple of days. They never got very much studying done, but, hey, it didn't stop either of them. Zayn even managed to keep it in the dark, from both Louis and Eleanor, but, with them being the two most curious people on the face of the Earth, that doesn't last very long. 

It's Sunday, and Zayn's stumbling from his bedroom, wrapped in a jumper that hangs off one shoulder and a pair of sweatpants he had to roll up to properly fit into. He walks into the living room, just in time to see Liam walk out, followed by the incredulous gazes of three unfortunately familiar figures. (What with Harry having managed to properly slot himself into their lives.) (Louis' still not sleeping with him and he's very bitter about it.)

"Oh, shit," Zayn sighs. 

Louis turns to him first, brow arched accusingly. "You liar," he greets. 

Zayn sighs again as shakes his head, stomach turning unpleasantly. "Can we please not do this right now?" Louis only narrows his eyes, probably readied with some snarky comment or another, when Zayn, for emphasis, has to pad casually back through his bedroom, into the bathroom, and kneel in front of the toilet. 

He can hear everybody walk into the room behind him, but can't properly glance up until he's finished throwing up everything he's ever eaten. 

"Christ," he whispers to himself, shaky. 

Harry's the first to kneel down next to him, followed quickly by Louis and Eleanor on his other side. "Are you alright?" He murmurs, and his accent sounds so much thicker when his voice is low. 

Zayn nods. "Fine," he agrees, but then he throws up again, and that lie disappears out the window. (Or down the toilet, depending on how literal you wanna be.)

Eleanor curses, placing a hand on the small of his small back. "Shit, Zayn," she says, when he glances up again, pushing his hair back from his face. "You're still sick?" 

"I was feeling better yesterday," Zayn sighs, feeling defeated. He's getting really tired of being sick, honestly. He had missed the last eight days of school because of whatever terrible virus he had managed to contract, and had spent the majority of the last ten on his knees in front of the toilet. Louis had teased him at first, about it being an STI, but it's starting to look to Zayn as though he's starting to become actually worried. 

Zayn doesn't care so much, though. Every time three o'clock rolls around, he feels well enough to function as a member of society, and every time he pretends that he's healthy enough to occasionally suck Liam off in the living room. (And that's all he needs, really.)

"You should go see a doctor," Louis finally tells him. "You're not supposed to be sick for this long. And it's not supposed to just shut off sometimes like it does." 

Zayn shrugs. "No, no doctors. I'm fine, I swear." 

"You 'aven't been too see a doctor?" Harry asks, and when Zayn shakes his head, he furrows his brow. "Why?" 

"Zayn's afraid of doctors," Louis supplies. 

Harry frowns. "'ave — 'ave you put on any weight?" He asks Zayn, who shrugs again. Harry nods. "And you've been sick for 'alf a day?" 

Zayn nods once. 

Harry bites his lip. "Is — is it baby?" He asks. 

Louis hums slightly. "What was that, baby?" 

"Baby," Harry repeats, English broken. He waves a hand, as if trying to push the words from the tip of his tongue, to the tips of his fingers. 

Zayn doesn't get it.

"Baby," Harry repeats, when he blinks. 

"What baby?" Zayn asks skeptically, as he tries to help guide the words past Harry's lips. "Whose baby?"

Harry holds his hands out again. "Your baby."


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg hi look at me look how fast i updated!! im gonna try to keep it going like this, more than once every seven centuries, but im terrible at updating on time so we'll see where that goes. 
> 
> in the meantime follow me on tumblr (malikvodka.tumblr.com)(also a perfect place to get on my ass about updating) and maybe send me prompts there if you wanna??? 
> 
> anyway. enjoy!!

Within two minutes, Zayn's gotten sick again and everybody's started yelling. 

It had happened so fast he's not even sure at which point the atmosphere had turned from poor-Zayn-he's-so-sick to wow-Harry's-such-a-dumbass. Harry had bitten his lip, repeated the word baby a few more times, and now Eleanor's pissed 'cause Harry's not taking anything seriously, Harry's pissed 'cause nobody's listening to him, and Louis' just yelling 'cause he's not the center of attention and he doesn't like that. 

"I _study_!" Harry snaps, shaking his head. "I _know_!" 

"You barely know English!" Eleanor cries. 

Louis throws his hands up. "You had a stutter for like six years, you're in no position to criticize him!" 

"I absolutely am! Zayn could be dying right now and Harry's making fucking jokes!" 

"I don't wanna die," Zayn says loudly. 

Harry runs a hand over his hair, looking about ready to punch something. "You will _not_!" he assures him. 

"How do you know?" Eleanor scoffs. 

"I study medicine in Paris!" Harry shouts. "I _know_ ," he repeats. 

" _Bullshit_ you know," Eleanor replies coolly, though Louis cuts off her inevitable explosion with a small hand to her back. 

"Did you seriously study medicine?" He asks Harry, turning to face him. 

Harry nods. "Yes." 

"And you think you know what's wrong with Zayn?" 

"Yes." 

"What is it?" He asks. 

"Baby." 

Eleanor snorts, but Louis ignores her, and leans closer to Harry with a tiny, rather fond frown. "What baby?" 

Harry sighs and holds a hand to Zayn's stomach. Zayn frowns. " _Baby_." 

Louis raises his eyebrows. "Like, he's having a baby?" 

Harry nods quickly. "Yes, yes," he agrees, and lights up when Louis finally understands. "'aving a baby." 

Louis nods, but Zayn can tell by the tilt of his lips that he's not taking Harry seriously. "Alright, baby. If you're sure." 

Harry's smile drops. "'e's 'aving a baby," he repeats, and when Louis only nods, his expression hardens, and Zayn can tell he's about ready to snap. He opens his mouth, but Zayn's quick to cut him off, with a loud huff and a hand on his knee. 

"Guys," he says, and his voice is as hoarse as if he'd spent the last hour getting sick. ( _Oh_.) "Shut the fuck up." 

"But —" Eleanor starts to protest, and Zayn holds a hand out to her. 

"No," he says. "Shut the fuck up." He's sick and tired and irritable and now slightly worried about himself and he's really in no mood to deal with any of this. He shakes his head. "Let's just go to the fucking hospital." 

" _Finally_ ," Louis snorts. 

Zayn sticks his tongue out at him. 

. 

The ride over is tense and silent and all shades of uncomfortable. 

Zayn's not sure what he expected, piling four irritable teenagers into a minivan and driving across town, but it certainly wasn't that the result would be so fucking uncomfortable. When the ride is finally over, he's almost relieved to jump out of the car — though he doesn't actually jump, 'cause he's still sick, and Louis' demanding they all be careful with his mum's van before he actually gets the opportunity to feel relieved. (He'd try to tear a door off if he didn't actually like Louis' mum.) 

He sighs to himself, and then at Louis, and stretches his arms over his head. 

Louis rolls his eyes.

Without a word, or a backwards glance in the direction of the other three, he locks the van and starts across the parking lot. Eleanor sniffs, and Zayn snorts, but they more or less don't argue, and trudge after him up to the front doors of the hospital. They walk inside single file, and Louis immediately takes Zayn to sit down as Eleanor goes to check in. 

Zayn rolls his eyes as he sits. "Just watch them tell me I have the flu," he says, and rests his head on Harry's shoulder as Harry sits next to him. 

"Or that you are 'aving a baby," Harry replies. 

Louis snorts from Zayn's other side. "Right, yeah, Harry, that's it. He's pregnant. Because that's possible." 

"It is possible," Harry says. 

"It isn't possible, Harry," Zayn tells him. 

Harry shakes his head. "It is possible," he insists, and he sounds so certain Louis and Zayn both let him be. Zayn can't find any harm in it, anyway, if he thinks that's what's wrong. The doctor will run some tests, tell Harry that he's wrong, and all will be worked out. Zayn just hopes nothing's seriously wrong with him. 

A minute or so later, Eleanor walks over, sitting down across from Zayn with a small sigh. "We've got a while to wait," she says, and Zayn scoffs.

"'Course we do," he agrees. "Time enough for me to go outside?" 

"Probably," she nods. 

Harry looks up at him as he rises to his feet. "Why do you need to go outside?" 

Zayn fishes a box of cigarettes from his pocket, and holds it out to Harry, who snatches it from his fingers the very moment he sees it. 

Zayn blinks. "Wah —" 

"You can't!" Harry says. Zayn quirks a brow, and Harry frowns at him, crushing the box in his hand. "The baby!" 

"Oh my God," he says, deadpan. He's suddenly very tempted to hit Harry, right in the face, but Eleanor's rising from her seat — and pushing Zayn back into his own — before he gets the chance. 

"Just a couple more minutes," she mumbles to him, and he nods once. It's gonna be a long few minutes, he's starting to realize, but he thinks he can survive it. 

As long as Harry buys him fucking Aspirin and cigarettes afterwards. 

. 

A few minutes turns to thirty. Thirty turns to sixty. Sixty turns to a hundred and eighty, to two hundred and ten, to however many minutes four hours is. 

Four hours pass, and they don't move once. 

Eleanor's since fallen asleep, laying on the carpet at their feet, Harry's jacket stretched out thinly beneath her. Louis' sitting next to her, head against Zayn's knees, mumbling things that don't quite make sense and drifting to sleep every few moments. Zayn's barely awake, head against Harry's shoulder, and Harry's resting his head back against Zayn's, checking the time every several seconds as though that will will it to move faster. They're all tired, and very bored, and after another long minute passes, Zayn decides that enough is enough. He wets his lips, seconds away from announcing that they should just head home and hope for the best, when a young girl in bright scrubs steps into the waiting room and calls his name. 

Zayn jolts, and accidentally kicks Eleanor, who jumps and nearly pushes Louis over. (They're a mess.) Louis squawks indignantly, and looks about ready to push Eleanor back down, when the young nurse walks over to them and smiles like she isn't about to have to deal with a fucking four person circus. 

"Malik?" She repeats. 

"Oh, that's us," Eleanor says, voice still thick with sleep.

"Thought so," the nurse smiles. "Will all of you be coming back?" 

"If that's alright," Eleanor nods, attempting to smooth her hair out as she rises to her feet. 

"Of course," she laughs, and Eleanor smiles as she turns and urges the other three to their feet. They're all a bit groggy, and incredibly reluctant, but they manage to make it to a back examination room without falling asleep on their feet. 

They all sit down heavily, with Zayn propped up on the bed in the back corner of the room. He feels rather awkward about it, and almost wants to jump down and walk out, when the nurse steps up in front of him. 

"You must be Zayn?" She asks, and Zayn nods. "I'm Jade. What can I help you with today?" 

"Ultrasound," Harry interjects, moving to stand next to Jade. "'e needs an ultrasound." 

"No, he doesn't," Zayn says. 

"Yes 'e does," Harry replies. 

Jade raises her eyebrows, and turns to Eleanor, probably because she's the only one of them that's said anything remotely intelligent since she's met them. 

She shrugs. "I think you should just give him the ultrasound." 

Zayn looks up. "What? Why?" 

"To rule out, like, tumors or something." 

"Or babies," Harry adds. He's ignored. 

"You think I have a tumor?" Zayn asks, and he asks it slightly louder than he had intended. 

Eleanor shakes her head. "No, no. But it's probably best to be absolutely certain that you don't. Besides, it would make Harry happy." 

"It would," Harry chimes. 

Zayn rolls his eyes. "Fine, fine," he agrees, and turns back to Jade with a sigh. "'Guess I'm getting an ultrasound." 

Jade nods. 

Before long, Zayn's on his back, shirt pushed up to his chest and cool hands splayed across his stomach. Jade's spreading, like, unlabeled liquids over his skin, and it's really cold and Zayn's really uncomfortable. 

"Is this even necessary?" He huffs finally. "I'm pretty sure I don't have a tumor." 

"This is just to give your friends some peace of mind," Jade laughs, finally taking her hands from Zayn's stomach and peeling off her rubber gloves. "Besides," she says, holding the wand to Zayn's skin, "this is a fairly good way to make sure nothing's seriously wrong. It'll save you from getting any blood work done." 

"I do hate blood work," Zayn agrees.

Jade laughs. "Tell me if you feel any pain, alright?" 

"Alright."

The nurse flashes him another smile, as she starts to drag the wand across his stomach, gaze flickering between the screen, to Zayn's face, and back again. It's kind of a strange feeling, and Zayn doesn't like it all, but he figures they're a bit too far gone for him to start backing out. 

He folds his arms beneath his head, and bites his lip, trying to keep as still as he can. For the most part, it works, though he can't keep himself from jolting with the nurse suddenly curses loudly next to him.

" _Fuck_ ," she blurts, and Zayn starts, heart in his throat. 

"What? What is it? What's wrong?"

"I," Jadesays, quickly peeling the wand from Zayn's stomach and pressing her lips together. She looks scared. "I'll be right back. I need to — I'll be right back." 

Zayn sits up on his elbows, and opens his mouth, though the nurse darts from the room before he can even string a sensical sentence together in his mind. He blinks, turning to look at the other three with an expression he knows is probably entirely hopeless. 

"Guys, what the _fuck_?" 

Harry swallows audibly. "Maybe I was wrong." 

"No shit you were wrong," Louis snorts, and turns to Harry, probably preparing to push him to the ground. Harry recoils, though just as Louis raises his arms, the nurse rushes back into the room, followed closely by a tired looking woman with dark hair and a lab coat. 

"Him, here, Dr. Nelson," Jade says, motioning to Zayn. (Whose hands are starting to shake uncontrollably.) (He really doesn't wanna have a tumor.) 

The doctor nods, and turns to Zayn with a smile he swears looks sad. "Can you lay back down for me, honey?" She asks, and Zayn shakes his head.

"No. Why? What's wrong with me?" 

"Just lay down, Zayn," Eleanor scoffs. 

Her voice sounds rigid, though as frightened as Zayn feels, and Zayn can't find it within himself to argue with her. He lays back down, lips pressed together, and glances up at the doctor expectantly as she holds the wand back to his stomach. 

She doesn't look down at him, though, or away from the ultrasound machine, until she seems to find something in the grainy blue images shifting onscreen. 

"My God," she whispers. 

"What?" Zayn asks loudly. "What's going on?" 

Dr. Nelson motions to the screen, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against the center of the glass plate. "I don't quite know how to tell you this, honey," she murmurs slowly, "but it looks like you're pregnant."

(Harry fucking cheers.)


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so omg this is super later and im super duper sorry i dont even have an excuse this time im just dumb
> 
> and this chapter isnt even as long as it could be but i promise the next one will be three times as long to make up for it
> 
> and on the brightside ive already started the next chapter so it should be up before the twenty fourth century!!
> 
> and remember you can always get on my ass about updating on my tumblr at classiczain.tumblr.com
> 
> and also follow me there if you wanna
> 
> and even if you dont wanna
> 
> follow me

Several things go through Zayn's head in very quick succession. 

The first is _fuck_. (Fucking _fuck_ fuck _shit_ fuck.) (Fuck.) The second is a very brief moment of awe, the next, a very faint feeling of guilt focused on Harry and how passively they had all treated him. The fourth is _fuck, how the fuck am I gonna tell everybody about this?_ , the fifth is _fuck_. 

Then he starts to panic. 

He's just a kid — a very vulgar, sexually active kid, with a drivers license and a cigarette addiction, but a kid, nonetheless. He still wears Batman pajama pants and adds with his fingers and relies on his mum to arrange all his doctor's appointments. He doesn't know how the fuck he's gonna take care of a kid, especially a fucking newborn baby, especially on his own (he can't imagine that Liam would help him out); and he can feel his palms and eyes start to burn as the beginnings of a panic attack start to creep up on him. He's shy and immature and so, unbelievably not ready for a kid, it's almost laughable. 

He tries to tell himself to calm down, that he'll be okay, that there's another option — that he can just get rid of the dumb kid now, and save himself the trouble. He doesn't really know if hospitals perform abortions, but he figures if he'd ask, they'd probably tell him the best place to go to get one. The stupid baby's probably not even a baby now, anyway, but a barely formed clump of cells, and he thinks it should be simple enough, getting them out of his body and going on with his life. 

The thought calms him down for a half a moment, before, like a fucking truck, he's hit with the realization that he really doesn't wanna get rid of his baby. He knows how beneficial it would be, especially for the baby's well being (there's a very slim chance Zayn could care for it properly and he can recognize it might be better off not being born), but the thought of just, like, killing it, makes him slightly ill. The kid is without a doubt going to ruin his life, but Zayn fucking — he _loves_ it, and he wants it, and he's starting to panic all over again because now he's gonna _have_ to keep it and he doesn't know what he's gonna do. 

He can hear Harry, still next to him, say something that vaguely sounds like Zayn's name, but before Zayn has the chance to respond everything goes slightly blurry and he passes out on the bed. 

. 

When Zayn finally blinks his eyes open again, his mouth is dry and his dumbass friends are arguing too loudly next to him. He can't make out what they're saying, but it's very obnoxious and probably about him and Zayn's not at all in the mood to deal with it. 

Louis' the closest, and talking the loudest, so Zayn turns to him and claps a hand over his mouth to shut him up. 

"Shuddup," he mumbles. 

Louis makes a surprised noise against his hand, as Eleanor and Harry both stop talking to turn to him, and everything's sort of quiet for a minute before their alarm fades and they all start talking at once. Even Louis, his mouth is still covered, starts talking into Zayn's palm, but the feeling kind of grosses him out and he's quick to drop his hand. 

It's finally the nurse — what's her name? Jade? — that steps forward, shushing the three of them quietly. They oblige, and Zayn casts her grateful look, feeling another sudden wave of gratitude wash over him. 

Jade only grins. "No worries. How are you feeling?" 

"Heavy," Zayn mumbles, which is the best word he could manage, being so heavy, and all. "How long's I out?" 

"'bout twenty minutes," she tells him. Zayn winces. "Dr. Nelson will be right back to talk to you, she's just run downstairs for a minute to grab you a few bottles of vitamins. They should help the, uh, pregnancy run smoothly." 

"I have so many questions," Zayn mumbles, closing his eyes again. The present is starting to catch up with him, and he can feel the uncomfortable weight of his dread starting to settle in the pit of his stomach again, probably right next to his baby. He wants to hate the thing, but he knows it's a wasted effort — he loves it, more than he thinks he's every loved anything, and it's a bizarre feeling to have about something that can barely be considered alive. 

He slowly opens his eyes again, glancing over at Louis as he sits lightly on the edge of Zayn's bed. "We've been trying to get answers, but they wouldn't tell us anything until you woke up," he pouts. 

"Good," Zayn nods. He hates being left out of the loop, especially when he's the one being talked about. 

Louis rolls his eyes, and Zayn nudges him gently, but he can't keep himself from cracking a smile as Louis pouts. Louis' loud and a pain in the ass and he breaks into Zayn's flat far too often, but he's excellent at distracting Zayn and Zayn's glad he's there. 

Louis gently pinches his thigh, and Zayn knees him gently, and Louis looks fully prepared to _accidentally_ push Zayn off the bed, when they're interrupted again by the click of the doctor's heels walking quickly back into the room. Zayn sits up slowly as she walks up to the bed, and she smiles, handing him a small envelope with _2 months_ scrawled across the front in thick silver pen.

Zayn arches a brow, and slowly pulls it open, lips twitching as he pulls out the ultrasound pictures. They're grainy, and dark, and hard as shit to make out, but after a moment of confused squinting he can almost clearly make out the tiny, blurry shape of his baby.

It's quite fucking creepy, and alien looking, and were it anybody else's baby Zayn probably would've laughed at it. But it isn't, it's his baby, and for some reason he's almost tempted to burst into tears. 

"It has your nose," Louis says, who leans into Zayn's side to properly look down at the pictures. 

Eleanor and Harry come up to stand on his other side, and she smiles softly. "It's beautiful, Zayn." 

Zayn nods. He's afraid to try and speak, lest his voice break and betray him completely. There's a voice in the back of his mind (it sounds an awful lot like his father's but Zayn tucks that away as a problem for another day), that tells him he's being stupid and too emotional and embarrassing himself, a little bit, but he remembers, then, that he's pregnant, and would have every right to have a breakdown if he so chose to. He's allowed to be a little over excited about his stupid kid. 

"Can I 'ave — 'ave a copy?" Harry asks, motioning to the pictures as though Zayn wouldn't know what was talking about. Though, given his record of completely misunderstand what Harry's been trying to say, he supposes that's fair. 

He nods again, and hands one of the pictures to Harry, who smiles widely in response. 

Louis tilts his head. "Why do you even want a picture?" He says, but be sounds honestly curious as he says it. 

Harry grins again. "My friend is 'aving a baby," he says, likes it's obvious, before tilting his head curiously. "You don't do t'at 'ere?" 

"No, we do," Eleanor chimes, and looks up at Zayn hopefully. She beams when Zayn hands her a picture. 

"Do you want one too, Lou?" He finally offers, after clearing his throat. 

Louis tilts his head again, before he nods, and takes the picture from Zayn with a grateful smile. "Thanks." 

Zayn nods, and turns back to the doctor, who looks just as pleased. "I made sure to run extra copies, in case your friends would want some," she says, and Zayn can't keep himself from smiling. 

"Thank you." 

She waves him off with a laugh. "Of course." 

"When can he come in for the, like, gender ultrasound?" Louis asks curiously, looking up from the one he has cradled in his hands. "Where he finds out if it's a boy or a girl?" 

"Eighteen weeks," the doctor tells him. 

He nods, and looks at Zayn. "I want a copy of that one too."

Eleanor looks up from her own picture, and gasps, swatting Zayn in the shoulder. "We should scrapbook this!" She says. (Zayn didn't even know she was into scrapbooking.) "We can put all your ultrasound pictures in!" She looks at the doctor. "Can he come in every month for an ultrasound? Is that allowed?" 

The doctor smiles. "He's supposed to come in for check ups every few weeks. We can do the ultrasounds then."

Eleanor swats him again. "And we can take pictures of your stomach every week! And we can do a, like, before and after of the nursery, and pictures of everybody before and after you tell them!"

Zayn nods. He doesn't know who or how he's gonna tell, and where the nursery's gonna be, 'cause they certainly don't have room in their current flat and Zayn doesn't think his family has the money to just up and move, but they're fairly good ideas and Zayn kind of likes the idea of having a, like, memoir of the pregnancy. He's not big on having his picture taken, but he's sure it'll be worth it years from now when his kid's all grown and Zayn's reminiscing.

Eleanor hums, looking thoughtful. "We could document the trip to the hospital, too, while you're in labour. And maybe the birth itself. And —" 

"Wait," Louis says. He looks mildly concerned. "How does he, like, give birth? Where does the baby like — like come out?"

Zayn looks at Louis, before down at his stomach, before up at the doctor, equally as concerned. He feels dumb, but he had been so preoccupied with _being_ pregnant he hadn't really thought about the part that comes after. 

The doctor cracks another grin. "C-section." 

"That's like — cutting it out, right?" Louis asks. (He and Zayn both heave a sigh of relief.) The doctor nods, and he mimics the action. "I don't know if I want pictures of Zayn being sliced open."

"I don't think I want that either," Zayn agrees. 

"Then we'll just get his face," Eleanor shrugs. 

"I don't wanna know what I look like while I'm being sliced open," Zayn protests, unconsciously holding a hand to his stomach. 

Eleanor shrugs again. "I don't care. I'm documenting." 

"Disgusting," Zayn says. 

She hums. "Do you think I could make a second copy of the scrapbook and use it as photography credit?" Zayn only quirks a brow, scowling, and she pouts. "Fine." 

The doctor laughs, and Zayn's nearly impressed at her ability to be amused by them and not annoyed as hell, like most people tend to be. "Any more questions?" 

"Uh, yeah," Zayn chimes in. "About like appointments and things? When — when are those?" 

She smiles. "We'll arrange all those before you leave. You've just got to show up here on the correct date." 

"That I can do," Zayn nods. "Probably."

"I'll remind you," Eleanor says. 

The doctor flashes her a grin. "I can get her a copy of the appointment dates too. And I'll send you both off with copies of the prescriptions for the vitamins I'll give you, in case you need more." 

"Is there a lot of vitamins?" Zayn asks. 

"Three," she says. 

"Disgusting," he says. 

She laughs. "Any more questions?" Nobody says anything, and Zayn shrugs, before the doctor grins again. "Alright. If we're all done here, lets go arrange your appointment dates."


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS SO LATE ANDT IS NOTO EVEN AS LONG AS I WANTED IT TO BE IM SO SORRY

The next hour of Zayn's life passes in a blur of dates and medications.

He gets an appointment book, a fistful of prescriptions, and a large cloth bag, embroidered with the hospital's name, full of bottles of pills. Eleanor receives an appointment book of her own, so she can remind Zayn of the dates, if need be, and Louis talks to the doctor as she fills out an extra few prescription cards, asking surprisingly educated questions.

Zayn's ears are still ringing, and he misses a few things in between, but from what he can tell he can't smoke, shouldn't strain himself, and is at a fairly high risk for gestational diabetes. Apparently it's more prevalent in pregnant men than it is in pregnant women, but the rate of pregnant men is also much lower than that of pregnant woman so it's not a certain study. The doctor then hands Zayn a business card, makes him promises to call with any questions, and then the group of them wander back into the real world, feeling much different than they had when they had left.

Harry seems to be the least affected of them, skipping along beside Zayn with a smile and his sonogram picture still clutched to his chest like a lifeline. It kind of makes Zayn want to hit him, but he refrains, and instead turns his face towards the ground to watch his feet as he walks.

He's wearing the same pair of dirty Chuck Taylors he wears everywhere, with stained canvas and torn soles and horribly blackened laces. He's never had a lot of money at his disposal, not even for cleaner shoes, and he doesn't know where he's gonna get the money to be able to take care of a whole other person, especially one as needy as a newborn.

He thinks that might be why he's trying so hard not to punch Harry in the windpipe. Harry's excited because he was right, and because he's in love with babies or whatever else it is. He's gonna be able to come and see Zayn's baby as he pleases, and take care of it only whenever he sees fit, and then when it becomes too much for him he can give it back to Zayn and come back to see it later. Zayn's gonna have to take care of it at all times, no matter the circumstances, and the fact that Harry can be so lighthearted about the fact that Zayn's probably going to have to starve to death to be able to feed his baby makes him grind his teeth.

He knows he's being ridiculous, but he honestly doesn't know what the hell he's gonna do. He'll have to get a job, probably, but he doesn't have a lot of skills and he'll still have to go to school and it's not going to be long before his stomach will stretch out further in front of him than he can reach. He's also still viciously sick at random moments, and he doesn't know how soon it'll be before his ankles swell and he can't stand for very long, but he suspects it's probably sometime in his immediate future.

He looks up again, to clamber into the van, before he drops the cloth bag at his feet and looks right back down at his lap. He can't even be a stripper at this point, because it's not gonna be long before he's swollen and unable to stand, and without even stripping as an option to fall back on he has absolutely no idea what to do.

"Hey," Louis pipes up from beside him, and Zayn looks up again, mildly startled. Louis cracks a smile, reaching out to nudge Zayn with one hand. "It'll be okay."

Zayn tries to agree with him, but it comes out as kind of a snort instead. "I'm so fucked."

Louis rolls his eyes. "You're not fucked," he says. "You'll be okay."

"I am fucked," Zayn tells him, and try as he might to keep it lighthearted he can't help but drop his head into his hands. "I don't know what I'm gonna do."

Eleanor pokes her head up from from the seat just behind him, and Zayn can hear the sympathetic frown in her voice. "You're gonna have a baby, babe."

"Yeah," Zayn agrees, "and then what? How am I gonna take care of a baby?"

She shakes her head. "You know we're gonna help you, right?" He makes a sort of a pained noise, and she scoffs. "We're gonna help you, Zayn."

"Me too," Harry agrees, leaning forward next to Eleanor.

"Except be careful with him," she says. "He might steal your baby."

Harry nods, smiling brightly, and Eleanor snorts out a laugh. "So you've got a permanent babysitter, right there," she says. "And we can help you pay for anything you need. That's what baby showers are for, anyway."

"We can tell the school that Eleanor's pregnant," Louis suggests. "Invite everybody to her shower and give all their gifts to you."

"What happens when I show up to school and I'm not pregnant?" Eleanor asks, and he shrugs.

"Maybe you miscarried."

"And I just came right back to school?" She asks critically. "Miscarriages are traumatizing, I would not be back so soon."

"Then skip a few days."

"You think my mum will let me miss school so I can fake a miscarriage?"

"Tell her your sick, I dunno."

"I'm not gonna lie to my mum so some kids at school will think I was pregnant."

Louis sniffs. "Not even for Zayn?"

"You don't have to fake a miscarriage for me," Zayn says, but he can't help that his lips twitch upwards again at the corners. They're serious pains in his ass at the best of times, but they mean well and Zayn's honestly so grateful he has them. He still doubts that he's gonna be able to take care of the baby, but Eleanor promises to buy all the diapers that he could ever possibly need and Louis swears he'll cover both shoes and formula, and it does take a bit of the weight off of his shoulders. He almost doesn't feel nauseous when they drop him back off at home, but the sight of his parents on the couch makes his stomach drop for the second time.

He ignores them on his way to his room, but he knows that he's gonna have to say something to them eventually, and the thought immediately makes him want to throw up.

He shuts the door behind himself, and stuffs the cloth bag beneath the bed, before he slowly pads into his bathroom and pauses in front of the mirror. He turns to the side and lifts his shirt, but there's virtually nothing there for him to see. He sighs softly, and starts to run his free hand across his stomach, looking down at it accusingly.

"You better be fucking adorable, baby."

.

School the next day is just as awful as Zayn had predicted it would be.

He isn't struck by lightening on the way over, and he isn't taken hostage by any embittered gang members, but he's sick and in sweatpants and his hair is flat, and he honestly couldn't miss another day.

By the time lunch rolls around Zayn feels dead, and his jaw aches from the force of keeping it closed to keep from throwing up all over the floor of each of his classrooms. He's starting to feel the smallest bit less nauseous, but the thought of eating brings it right back and Zayn drops his head against their table.

"I feel so gross," he says against it.

Eleanor shifts into the seat beside him, soothingly patting the back of his head. "Only a few more hours."

"Too many hours," he grunts. "Why did I even come to school today?"

"You don't want to miss too many days and be held back," Eleanor reminds him, and he nods.

It's a sad and unfortunate truth, but there's a maximum to how many days you can miss in a school year and Zayn has probably already pushed pretty close to it. The deadline changes with exception, of course, but Zayn is absolutely not prepared to tell anybody in administration that he's expecting.

"It's a stupid rule," Louis chimes from the seat across from him, lifting the corner of his mouth sympathetically when Zayn raises his head. "Have you talked to Liam today?" He asks.

"No," Zayn says, and snorts. "Thank God." He has a sinking feeling that if he speaks to Liam at all, he'll blurt out something along the lines of the truth, and he's not at all ready for that to happen to him. He can barely admit the truth to himself, he doesn't know if he'll ever be ready to admit it Liam. "Maybe if I ignore him for long enough he'll get the hint and piss off," he hums.

"Probably not," Eleanor says. "He's a smart boy but he's pretty stupid."

"I think it's 'cause he's in love with you," Louis adds, shrugging innocently when Eleanor shoots him a look across the table. "I mean, if you look over Zayn's horrible personality and hideous face, he's not all that bad."

"Thanks," Zayn says, deadpan, pretending his heart doesn't twist the littlest bit in his chest at the thought of Liam actually being in love with him. He knows that it's unrealistic, and probably about as false as possible, but it's a pretty nice thought to think about. Especially what with the baby, and all.

He wonders what would have happened if Liam were a different person. Not, like, if Zayn had carelessly fucked somebody else, but if Liam weren't the asshole that he actually is in real life. He likes to think that he'd be able to tell Liam without worry, and that he'd be concerned, but accept him, and stick by his side until their kid's born. And then he'd help Zayn take care of it, before they'd graduate together, and move in with one another, and get married and all of that other shit. He likes to think that maybe they'd have a few other kids, and that Zayn would stay home to take care of them, when in reality Zayn's sitting in a crowded cafeteria pretending he's not awash with morning sickness and watching Liam and his massive crowd of friends swarm into the room together.

There's a lot of them, all loud and pretty and probably just as rude as Liam, and Zayn groans to himself as he drops his head back against the table. Eleanor pats his neck again, but Zayn only closes his eyes, waiting for death to take him or for the table to swallow him whole. He can't imagine that it's gonna happen anytime soon, but Zayn is nothing if not hopeful. He only looks back up when Harry finally swings himself into the seat next to Louis', grinning widely.

"'i," he greets.

"Hi," Louis says accusingly. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Er," Harry says, and shrugs. "I think you say Language?"

"ESL?" Eleanor guesses, and he nods.

"My English is not very good. I think my 'ome stay doesn't understand me sometimes."

"You haven't told them anything about Zayn, have you?" Louis asks, and Harry shakes his head, with a motion like he's zipping his mouth closed.

"No," he promises. "'ow is Zayn feeling today?"

"Like he wants to die," Zayn tells him honestly, and Harry reaches across the table to soothingly pat the top of Zayn's head.

"I'm sorry," he says. Zayn cracks a smile. "I was going to buy you baby presents today but I don't 'ave any money."

"It's okay," Zayn tells him, shaking his head. "You don't have to buy me anything."

"Literally all of us are going to buy you things," Eleanor points out. "Don't even try not to accept our help."

Louis nods at her, lifting one shoulder. "Sorry, mate," he says, but Zayn doesn't think that he sounds all that sorry. "I'm sure my mum'll give you shit, too. She has a lot of things left over from my sisters."

"Ask her to lend us a bit of money, too," Eleanor suggests. "We can go baby shopping over the weekend. We need clothes and bottles and a carrier first, I think."

"Also diapers and pacifiers and socks," Louis adds, and Eleanor nods, pulling her phone from the bag at her hip. Zayn shifts closer, glancing at the screen as she pulls open a new note and starts to make a list.

"We'll also need one of those things that keeps babies upright in the bathtub," he says, and she nods. "And blankets, and baby safe soap, and some beanies."

"Beanies?" Harry asks, and Louis shrugs again.

"Hats. They're not a necessity but I think they're cute."

Harry laughs loudly, and Eleanor rolls her eyes. "What else do we need?"

"Formula," Louis says, "and teddy bears and toys."

"Is that all?" She asks, switching her phone off again when Louis nods. "I don't know if we can get this all this weekend."

"Please don't," Zayn says. It's ridiculous, actually, how grateful he is that they're so willing to buy him so much, but he lives in a very small flat with his two very oblivious parents and not a lot of room to try hide diapers and lie about why he has them in the first place. "I don't know where I would keep it all," he says, shaking his head. "Maybe wait until my parents know before you start buying me shit."

"I don't know if I can hold off that long," Eleanor tells him. "Why can't we just keep it all at my house?"

"Wouldn't your mum just immediately assume that you're having a baby?" Louis asks, and she shrugs.

"I'll just tell her I'm not."

"And she'll believe you?"

"Probably not," she admits, and shrugs again. "I'll make something up. Or I'll tell her one of my friends is having a baby, I dunno."

"You're not allowed to tell anybody about my baby until I've started telling people about my baby," Zayn snorts, but even as he says it he's trying to make up his mind about whether or not he even wants to tell anybody. He figures he can keep it a secret for maybe another three months, and then he'll go into hiding when he starts to show too much to keep hidden. He'll run away, maybe live in a hotel room with the help of his friends' generous donations, and then, after the baby's been born in secret, he can return and claim that he found it on a doorstep or something and kept it as his own.

The issue, though, is that technically he's still a minor and that he probably wouldn't be allowed to keep a baby he found in the street. His parents would probably be allowed to adopt it, but he doubts that they would, and the thought of giving his baby to somebody else makes another wave of nausea rush over him. He wonders if he's not already too attached to it, but given how much his friends already love the damn thing he thinks his own love might be justified.

Eleanor only waves him off. "I won't," she says, "it's not my secret to tell." Zayn nods gratefully, and she shrugs again. "I can't wait until I can tell people, though."

"Why?" He snorts.

She laughs."It's exciting! I can't wait until it's born and I can finally be a godmother."

"Why would you be its' godmother?" Louis asks, and she waves a hand.

"Who else would it be? If it's a girl I think you should name her after me, too."

"It's a boy you should name it Louis," Louis suggests. "Or William."

"Or 'arry," Harry chirps, and Louis nods.

"Or Harry. Or —" He looks back to Harry, hand on his arm. "What's your middle name?"

"Edward," Harry says, and Louis cracks a smile before he looks at Zayn again.

"Or Edward."

"I don't think I'm going to name it any of those things," Zayn says. He'd actually thought about names quite a few times since last night, and none of those had made the list.

Louis rolls his eyes. "I think Louis' a pretty solid name."

"I think it's kinda dumb," Zayn says, and Louis throws a napkin at him.

"I think _you're_ dumb."

"I _know_ you're dumb," Zayn shrugs.

Louis starts to crumple up another napkin, just as first bell goes off overhead and makes him jump. Zayn snorts, and Eleanor rolls her eyes.

"Well this has been fun," she says, "but I have a class."

"Me too," Zayn sighs, ducking away from the napkin Louis throws at him and slowly heaving himself to his feet. "Don't forget you're my ride home."

"I won't," she nods, trailing after Zayn as he walks from the cafeteria with a quick goodbye to Louis and Harry. "Good luck with — you have English next, right?" He nods, and she pats his shoulder. "Good luck."

He nods again, sighing to himself as she ducks into her own classroom and he continues down the hall by himself. He knows he's going to need as much luck as he can possibly get, given he's going to need to sit through an entire hour of the only class he was with Liam. They don't normally speak during class, especially not since they had started sleeping together, but even the thought of spending an hour staring at the back of Liam's head makes him anxious. He takes a deep breath as he starts to step into the classroom, though his balance is knocked a little off centre when Liam suddenly takes his wrist and leads him away.

Zayn panics for a moment, immediately assuming that Liam knows about the baby, though he's more or less assured that he has no idea when he suddenly pulls him around an empty corner and presses him to the wall.

He immediately starts to kiss down his neck (probably, Zayn thinks, because he had seen him with Harry and is still unbelievably jealous of him), but the sudden movement jostles Zayn too much and he has to push Liam away so he doesn't throw up on him.

"What?" Liam says, and snorts. "What's the problem?"

"It's nothing," Zayn says quickly, shaking his head. "Nothing. Just, ah, kinda sick, I guess."

He barely believes himself, and he's honestly not all that surprised when Liam tilts his head skeptically and quirks a brow.

"Still?" He asks sarcastically. "You aren't pregnant, are you?"

Zayn panics, and is kind of distracted by the tattoo on his neck when he blurts, "yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pretty please follow me on [tumblr](http://classiczain.tumblr.com) and if youd like you can always send me prompts there that ill take a thousand years to post cause im GARBAGE


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO I AM A HUMAN GARBAGE CAN AND IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG TO POST I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT HAPPENED ITS NOT LIKE I HVE HOBBIES
> 
> ITS NOT EVEN A SUPER LONG CHAPTER BUT I NEEDED TO POST SOMETHING BEFORE THE NEXT NEW YEAR BUT I PROMISE THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE ANNOYINGLY LONG AND ANGSTY AND POSTED IN THE NEXT FEW DAYS
> 
> ALSO THANKS TO THE TUMBLR ANON THAT GAVE ME THE IDEA FOR THIS CHAPTER SORRY IT TOOK ME TWELVE YEARS TO POST IM FCKING TRASH

It's sort of quiet for a moment. 

Not good quiet, either, but the kind that makes Zayn's stomach turn, and he can almost hear his heartbeat in his ears as he slowly looks from Liam's throat, to his eyes. 

They're blank, like he's looking right through Zayn, and his lips keep moving around words that aren't quite coming out. Zayn bites his lip, trying to give Liam a minute to process the information he's been given, when he finally blinks a few times and takes a step away from Zayn. 

It hurts, but not as much as it does when Liam barks out a laugh and asks accusingly, "Are you kidding?" 

"Uh," Zayn says. 

Liam laughs again. He runs both of his hands over his hair, holding to the back of his neck as he shakes his head like he can't quite remember ever being so amused. He slowly takes another step away from Zayn, laughing again as he looks up at his face and his less than pleasant expression. 

He doesn't quite seem to know what to do with himself, and only laughs again as he takes another step back. Zayn certainly hadn't expected anything different, but his heart still falls further into the pit of his stomach as he watches Liam lower his hands and throw his head back. He's a pessimist at the best of times, he'll admit, but there had been the teensiest, tiniest, little, tiny, teeny part of him that had hoped that maybe Liam wouldn't take the news too terribly. He supposes that it might be the fault of the hormones, but beneath the gnawing knowledge that Liam is an awful person, he had been hoping that Eleanor was right, and that there was a person beneath his thick outer veneer of leather and tattoos that would take kindly to the news. 

He hadn't imagined a glowing reception and a proposal, that was for sure, but he had hoped for a better reaction than the one he was receiving. Liam's laughing so hard his voice is breaking, and Zayn slowly leans back against the wall, watching his shoes and trying to remain stoic until Liam finally calms himself down. 

His chest's heaving, lips still turned upwards as he says, "I can't believe you let a fucking exchange student get you pregnant."

And, like. 

Oh. 

It takes Zayn a few seconds to catch up, before his heart sinks even further, probably nestled somewhere next to the baby that's most decidedly not Harry's. 

He almost wishes it were, because Harry's exactly the kind of man that would take kindly to the news, but no matter what Zayn had said, he hadn't slept with anybody in the few months that had passed since they had actually starting sleeping together. 

It's stupid, and Zayn knows it's stupid, but he had also known that while he had only been sleeping with Liam, Liam hadn't stopped fucking any randoms that looked at him the right way, and while even at the time he had known how stupid it was, it had still made him insanely, inappropriately jealous. He has very vivid memories of listening to a random blonde giggle to her friends about the night she had spent with Liam and wanting to throw up on the desk in front of him. He's a ridiculous person, he knows, but he had become sort of attached to Liam, and whenever he had asked about Harry, who was evidently a very handsy person, he had remained adamant that when he wasn't with Liam, he'd let Harry fuck him. 

He hadn't, of course, and only partially because he knew that Louis was in love with him, but whenever he'd said it, it drove Liam mad, and Zayn'd get fucked within an inch of his life. At the time, he'd figured that it was a harmless lie, but he supposes that he should have known that it would blow up in his face, like most things tended to. 

He's almost certainly the least lucky person on the planet, and he thinks the churning nausea in his stomach and the cackling bloke in front of him are perfect examples of that. 

He finally clears his throat, trying in vain to piece together a somewhat reassuring way to tell Liam that hey, the baby's actually yours, when Liam suddenly laughs again and folds his arms over his chest. 

"That's what you get for being a whore, though, innit?" 

Zayn can't help but breath out a snort, somewhat taken aback and more than completely startled, though he can almost feel his stomach start to sink again as Liam leans back against the wall behind him and shakes his head. "Unless you're trying to tell me it's mine," he says conversationally, and Zayn's almost hopeful again, for the next fraction of a second, "but then you're shit out of luck, aren't you?" 

Zayn looks up at him again, and his heart jumps to his throat. Liam smirks. "You're just an easy fuck, y'know?" He continues, lifting his shoulders casually. "Willing to spread your legs for anybody that can wax poetic. That's all." Zayn still doesn't speak, quickly looking down to his shoes, and he hears Liam laugh as he straightens up from the wall. "Wish Harry luck for me. Can't imagine how hard it's gonna be to be stuck with you." 

Zayn winces, but he still can't bring himself to say anything, and keeps his eyes fixed on the torn canvas of his shoes as Liam brushes past him and presumably to class. Even after he's left, Zayn stands there, and he simply stares at his feet and the cracked tile beneath them until the bell finally goes off over his head. He has another class, he knows, before the day officially ends, but he doesn't think he can survive another hour of pretending that he's okay. When he finally stands, it's to weave his way through the growing crowd of students and push out the front doors. It's cold outside, but he feels overheated, and the wind is nice on his face as he shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket and slowly starts the long walk home. 

It's a walk that he'd normally die before willingly taking, but he's so trapped in his own head that he barely realizes that he's started to walk until he's stopped in front of his front door. He looks up at it for a moment, heart still heavy in his chest, and only lets himself inside when the pain in his feet becomes worse than that in the pit of his stomach. 

He locks the door behind himself, and curls up on the couch, hoping to sleep until the words _can't imagine how hard it's gonna be to be stuck with you_ no longer feel like they've been branded into his skin. 

. 

He doesn't, of course. 

When he wakes up, the sun's still filtering into the room through the blinds, and Eleanor's crouched on the floor in front of his face, fingers in his hair. He blinks blearily, before he slowly cocks a brow at her, and she smiles apologetically as she runs her fingers through his hair once more and slowly sits back on her heels. 

"Sorry," she murmurs. "I didn't mean to wake you." 

Zayn raises his eyebrows again, but he's too emotionally drained to be mad at her. He only nods. "Is there a particular reason you're in my house?" 

"I was your ride home," she reminds him, and shit, right, Zayn's an ass and she totally had been, "and you didn't show up. I was worried." 

"Shit," he says, voice still thick with sleep as he sits up. "Sorry. I guess I forgot." 

Eleanor nods, climbing carefully onto the couch next to him. "Did something happen?" She asks softly, and Zayn wants to curse again, because fuck, of course she'd know. 

He knows, too, that she'd know if he was lying, and he heaves a sigh as he lifts his shoulders. She wraps her arms around him tightly. "Is it Liam?" 

Zayn nods, and looks down at his hands, and the faded short, faded marks that were left where his fingernails had started cutting into his palms. It's really ridiculous, actually, how easy it is for Liam to get under his skin, and he can't help but snort out a laugh as he's reminded, again, how pathetic he is. He's a poor teenager with scarred palms and a baby, the father of which can't actually stand Zayn, and that Zayn can't seem to stop being infatuated with, no matter how badly he'd like to stop. 

He's supposes that it could be the hormones, and that they could be clinging to the few times Liam's been sweet to him, but he also has a sneaking suspicion that he might just be in love with him. The very thought makes him laugh again, because it's just like him to be in love with somebody that can't stand him, and he snorts to himself as he leans his head on Eleanor's shoulder. 

"He doesn't want me," he says. 

"Oh," she says softly, and quickly holds him closer, kissing the top of his head. "I'm so sorry." 

He wants to tell her that it's fine, and that he's alright, but it's not, and he isn't, so he keeps his mouth shut. He only shakes his head again, and closes his eyes, slowly drifting back to sleep to Eleanor humming comfortingly in his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont forget to follow me on [tumblr](http://classiczain.tumblr.com) if you wanna follow a real live garbage can


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so.............................yikes. i honestly have no idea why it took me so long to update this?? this chapters been sitting in the notes in my phone for MONTHS?? but it looks the temporary and accidental hiatus is over and im back!! im gonna try and post another chapter in the next few days, and i pinky promise im never gonna take this long to update ever again. thanks so much for being so patient with me!!

When Zayn wakes up the second time it's to the soft, startled sound of Eleanor's voice. 

 

She sounds like she's actually trying to keep herself calm, but she's doing a terrible job of it, and Zayn's worried that something's happened to him, for a moment, or his baby, until he blinks his eyes open in alarm and sees that she's breathing, "Oh, God, what happened?", into the phone. 

 

He furrows his brows, and sits up slowly, trying to keep from jumping to any particularly morbid conclusions as he watches her push her hair back from her face and nod along with whoever's speaking. "And everybody's alright?" She asks finally, and Zayn doesn't actually hear the answer, but a sort of relieved smile breaks out across her face as she nods again. "Thank God. Alright. We'll be there soon. Alright. Thank you." 

 

Zayn raises his eyebrows as she nods again, before ending the call, and letting out a long breath as she slumps against the back of the couch. 

 

"Is everything alright?" Zayn asks, voice still thick with sleep, and Eleanor exhales softly as she nods again. 

 

"I have to go back to the school," she says. "Louis' gotten into a fight and he needs me to pick him up." 

 

"A fight?" Zayn repeats, raising his eyebrows in surprise. Louis may be outspoken and confrontational, but Zayn's always sort of seen him as the expert of arguing with people that are bigger than him and not getting hit. "Is he alright?" He asks. "What happened?" 

 

"I have no idea," Eleanor admits, rising to her feet. The sun is still filtering in through the curtains behind her, and Zayn figures he can't have been asleep for more than a few minutes. "I suppose I'll find out when I get there. Wanna come with me?" 

 

Zayn had sort of planned on never going back to school again, but he can't keep himself from sighing softly and rising to his feet. There's a part of him, sort of small, that wants to make sure that Louis' alright, and there's another, bigger part of him that wants to know what had happened and who he'd decided to fight. 

 

The drive back to the school is mostly silent, and when they pull into the student parking lot, it's mostly empty, save for a few cars here and there and one, towards the back, that Zayn recognizes as Louis'. He rolls his eyes to himself as he follows Eleanor into the school, weaving their way through the few remaining students to the administration office, and then to the nurses' office towards the back of the room. 

 

Zayn isn't quite sure what he had expected to be walking into, but he's still a bit taken aback, eyebrows drawn together as Harry and Louis both look over with wide, guilty smiles. Louis has a split lip, and the knuckles of his right hand are starting to bruise, while Harry's right hand is completely bandaged and the slightest bit stained with blood. Then there's this blonde bloke, Niall, who's sitting across from Harry, and who has a growing purple bruise over one eye and who just sort of looks sort of bored. 

 

Zayn's never spoken a word to Niall, and as far as he's concerned, Louis hasn't, either, and the only reason he sort of vaguely recognizes him is because Harry's been living with his family. He'd always seemed like a nice enough bloke, even despite the fact that Zayn had never actually met him, and for a moment, Zayn thinks that it was him that Louis had tried to fight, and he can't quite figure out what the fuck's going on. 

 

"Alright," he says finally. "What the fuck?" 

 

"It's not as bad as it looks," Louis says, but he's staring intently at his bruised hands and Zayn knows immediately that he's lying. "We're all fine." 

 

"What happened?" Eleanor asks, and Louis sort of furrows his brow, delicately lifting his shoulders again before Eleanor snorts and points at Niall. "You," she says. "Did you fight him?" 

 

"No," he says, and his accent is Irish, which Zayn really hadn't been expecting. "He fought Liam." 

 

Partway through his sentence, Louis emits a sort of a shout that Zayn knows means _shut the fuck up_ , but Niall had apparently never received the memo and Liam's name hangs in the air for several long, awkward moments. 

 

Zayn speaks first. "What the fuck?" 

 

"I couldn't help it!" Louis blurts, almost before he had finished speaking. "I wasn't gonna fight him, I just — I wanted to rough him up a little!" 

 

Zayn only cocks a brow, staring Louis down until he exhales loudly. "Zee," he starts, in a soft sort of tone that Zayn had never heard before, and that makes his heart start to sink before he sighs, "he told people about the baby." 

 

It certainly hadn't been what Zayn had been waiting to hear, and he can feel his heart start to sink even lower as the reality of what Louis' saying sinks in. It wasn't as though it hadn't occurred to him that Liam would tell people, but he had sort of hoped, after Liam had left him standing silently in a hallway, that he would be too embarrassed at the fact that Zayn was having a baby to actually tell people that Zayn was, like, having a baby. 

 

He hadn't, though, and now people know, and Zayn feels a little bit like he's about to start hyperventilating when Louis says, "I figured you had told him when I heard a couple of his ugly friends talking about it, y'know?" 

 

Zayn nods minutely, and Louis sighs. "They were talking some shit about Liam and some — well, they said whore," he says, and Zayn cocks a brow. "They were talking some shit about Liam and some whore who had been fucking around on him and gotten pregnant, and I figured there probably wasn't more than one, right?" Zayn nods again, as if in slow motion, and Louis continues, "They were just saying all this shit about you that drove me mad, so I went to talk to Liam about it, right? I just wanted to tell him to keep quiet, but he's just so — ugh," he says. "He's so frustrating. It's like talking to a cocky brick wall, and he just — he said some more shit about you, yeah? So I just kinda hit him." 

 

He looks down at his knuckles, thumbing slowly across the bruises. They're very purple, and Zayn suspects that it might have done more damage to Louis than it had to Liam. "He, like, hit me back, though, so then Harry comes over, and he's fucking terrifying. I guess he's not, like, bigger than Liam, but he starts beating the shit out of him, anyway."

 

"What about him?" Eleanor asks curiously, nodding at Niall, who shrugs. 

 

"He came over to see what the fuck was going on," Louis says. "He's Liam's friend, or whatever, and was curious, but then Liam finally got a good one in, and Niall hit Liam for hitting Harry 'cause they're like honorary brothers or summat." Zayn looks at Niall, who nods. "We sort of assumed he had already been told about the baby, too, but I guess he hadn't, 'cause he hit Liam again when he found out," Louis says. "He called him a bastard or some shit and Liam only hit him once before he fucked off with his other dumb friends." 

 

"Congratulations," Niall adds, and Zayn snorts, unable to keep his lips from twitching. 

 

"We've sort of adopted him, in the meantime," Louis continues, before Zayn has a chance to say anything. "'Cause he defended your honour and all that. We were gonna come right to yours to check on you but Harry made us visit the nurse." 

 

"You are 'urt," Harry reminds him, and Louis scoffs, but Zayn knows him well enough to know that's he's probably internally preening. 

 

"I'm fine," he says, "but thank you, baby." 

 

Harry makes a sort of a frustrated noise, throwing his hands up in disbelief, but he doesn't try to argue as Louis pats Harry's knee and slowly heaves himself to his feet. "C'mon," he says. "The nurse's given us the all clear and I haven't eaten yet. Niall's initiation can be buying us dinner." 

 

"Sure," Niall says easily, and Louis pats his head appreciatively, nodding down at him as he glances back up at Eleanor and Zayn. 

 

"Are you lot interested?" He asks. "Niall's buying." 

 

Zayn's stomach turns only slightly at the thought of food, but he shakes his head. Now that he's sure that Louis hasn't been murdered, the exhaustion is starting to sink back in, just above the sadness that Liam had planted earlier and just beneath the growing shame that Liam had told people, and that people now know. He kind of just wants to sleep until his chest stops hurting, and he sighs to himself as he slowly pushes a hand through his hair. 

 

"I really just wanna go back to sleep," he says, "but thanks." 

 

"Zayn," Louis says, and he almost looks like he's gonna actually gonna say something sweet, but thinks better of it, "it's Niall's initiation. We're officially adopting him today. You can't miss that." Zayn snorts, and almost starts to shake his head again, before Louis heaves a sigh so heavy his entire body shifts with it. He actually has a very good heart about him, buried as it is beneath the thick outer veneer of attitude and mildly sarcastic comments, but he usually isn't the sort of person that talks, if he can help it, about anything even somewhat emotional, and Zayn's nearly taken aback as he says, "You probably shouldn't be alone, either. You've had a rough few days." 

 

He feels Eleanor's hand at his back, then, rubbing soothing circles against the fabric of his shirt, and Zayn still really wants to lie down, but Louis' right. He's had what's quite possibly been the longest few days of his life, and, hell, maybe some fresh air and a distraction will be good for him. 

 

"Niall's buying," Louis chided again, and Zayn can't keep himself from cracking a smile. 

 

"Fine," he says. 

 

Louis cheers, clapping his hands together dramatically. "Where are we thinking, then?" He asks. "Ribbons? Yes or yes?" 

 

"I could do Ribbons," Niall agrees, heaving himself from his chair. 

 

"Ribbons?" Louis turns to Zayn, who lifts his shoulders. 

 

"I don't really care," he says honestly. "I can't really eat." 

 

"You need to eat," Eleanor tells him, and he snorts. 

 

"If I eat, I'll get sick," he says. 

 

"If you don't eat, you'll get sick," she says, patting the pockets of her jacket until she producers a packet of animal crackers and holds it out to him. "Eat this. You'll feel better," she promises. 

 

Zayn makes a whiny sort of noise, but he knows better than to argue with her, and pulls open his packet of crackers as he leads the group of them from the nurses office. He walks through the front office, into the main hall, where he walks, of course, directly into Liam's approaching chest. 

 

He must just be heading towards detention, and he looks down at Zayn, startled at first, and then totally blank. Just absolutely void of emotion. 

 

Zayn can feel his stomach drop towards his feet, and he nearly drops his animal crackers. He can hear Eleanor and Louis and Harry and Niall follow him from the office, but then their footsteps falter, and they look on as Zayn stares up at Liam, silent. He's got a pretty wicked bruise on his cheek, and one of his eyes is starting to swell, and Zayn hates how good it feels to see his skin sore and purple. He almost wants to smile, but refrains, if only because he's also sort of tempted to lean up and press kisses to his bruises. He tries to tell himself it's cause he's hormonal, and that it's his maternal instincts or something, but he knows, deep down, that it's not the case. For whatever reason, he still likes Liam, and he has to bite down on his tongue when Liam snorts down at him. It's not as though he expected anything different, but, like. It still hurts. 

 

He pushes past Zayn, knocking against his shoulder in the process. Zayn falters, nearly dropping his crackers again, but he doesn't bother to stop Liam or even turn to glance after him. Instead, he doesn't do anything, until Niall pushes himself from the doorway of the office and surges forward to sling an arm around his shoulder. 

 

"Don't take it personally," he says, in a tone that's probably supposed to be sympathetic. It's too chipper. "He's always like that. It's not you." 

 

"That was a very nice try, Niall," Louis tells him, crossing the hall to stand at Zayn's other side. "C'mon," he says softly. "Some food and some company might help you feel better." 

 

He starts to lead Zayn towards the front doors, and Zayn wants to protest, but he reminds himself, again, that Louis' probably right. Sitting quietly at home and moping isn't gonna make anything better, and it definitely isn't gonna make him feel any better. If how he's feeling is any indication, it's actually been making him feel worse, and he takes a deep breath as he follows Louis outside and into the cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont forget to come kick my ass on [tumblr](http://classiczain.tumblr.com)!! im also always taking prompts and pregnant zayn headcannons so dont be afraid to hmu


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